Silver Threads
by ohmygodagiantrock
Summary: AU. Gozaburo's death forces Seto and Noa to fend for the Kaiba family together and take over the family tailoring business. The eldest Kaiba brothers dive into deep competition with one another and the new hires. But one arrogant young man's confident allure tempts Seto to risk crossing professional boundaries or abandon his station as employer and join the ranks. Prideshipping.
1. Chapter 1

Extensive Author's notes: _I'm a seamstress by trade, primarily tailoring men's high-end business suits. I've worked the last four years in various dusty old shops. I love what I do. While the trade is dominated by women, I have had the great pleasure of working with a couple of men in the workroom._

 _Two things I have noticed while having two male co-workers simultaneously was that men in the sewing business are a) highly respectful of each other, and b) extremely prideful of their work._

 _These concepts have added up to a risky story idea. What if what I've observed isn't the norm? Certainly, men take pride in their work. But what if they weren't respectful of one another? What if they were severely competitive?_

 _High end business suits, wealthy, important people, and a highly competitive environment? I may know a handful of characters who just might fit that bill. Thought I'd have a little fun, and it brought out this AU. I hope you enjoy._

* * *

When Seto stepped into the dusty workroom, his immediate expression was a grimace. Dust hung in the air, and his nostrils already stung with a desire to sneeze. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and willed the sensation away. Why did he manage to forget about the dust every time he came?

"Why are we here, Noa?" he asked.

Noa's face was set into a deep frown. The sincerity of Noa Kaiba's face was clear. He spun to face his twin brother.

"I need you to believe in magic, Seto."

Seto's eyes narrowed in annoyance but he didn't answer.

"If you don't get on board, our family will be on a swift path to the poorhouse."

"This country doesn't operate with a "poorhouse" system. Make your point."

"Don't get technical."

Noa peered around the dusty room, an amicable smile gracing his features. He glanced lovingly at the solid metal machines, set on desks that formed two rows through the room, a narrow pathway separating them.

"Father's gone. Half his business has gone down the drain since he died."

"I'm the new owner. I've seen the paperwork."

"His employees were almost too loyal to him. Without Father around to run the place, they're quitting."

"If they were so loyal to him, one would think they'd stick around, rather than abandoning what he believed in."

"Maybe they didn't believe in it. Maybe they only had faith enough to believe in him. But you're contributing to the problem, Seto. You're _becoming_ the problem."

"Right now the only problem I see is this shop running us into the ground. The sooner we sell it off-"

"The sooner Father's dreams will die! This is supposed to be a _family_ business, Seto!"

Seto ran a hand through his hair. His foot bounced while he stood, patience thin.

Noa ran a hand over a rack of spools lining the wall. His fingers paused over a violet colored thread and pulled it off the spindle, twirling the spool in his fingers.

"He loved this shop. How can you even think of selling it?"

"I'd like to eat, Noa. For that matter, I'd like to finish school. I'm the one pursuing a business degree, so I get why the inheritance went to me. But I never said that I wanted it. And even if I do sell, you don't have to quit. I know how much you love this place too."

"You don't get it. Every tailor who works here will quit if you sell. Who would you find to buy this place, who's still willing to keep up Gozaburo Kaiba's quality of workmanship? Tailors like him don't exist anymore. They have to be _born_ and _trained_."

"If I don't sell, the shop will go out of business. If I do sell, the shop will go out of business, but I'll have received capitol for the sale."

"And you'll have sentenced Father's dreams to death."

Noa was silent a while. He picked at the spool in his hands, brushing a clump of dust off the cardboard cone.

"What would Mokuba think," Noa asked quietly, "when you tell him we can't afford his games anymore? His name as a competitor will sink. The name Kaiba won't mean a thing to anyone."

Seto's eyes bore into Noa's. The brothers locked eyes for a challenging moment. Seto intended to win the argument but he needed to concede defeat in the battle. He blinked, breaking contact.

"What's your grand plan, Noa? How do you see this getting fixed?"

A gleam ignited in Noa's eyes.

"You understand the concept of a quality product. You're learning how to handle customers with expertise. You're—"

"Cut the flattery. You won't bribe me with it."

Noa nodded curtly, but the gleam hadn't expired.

"The only way I see you fixing this is by working."

"...Working. Here."

Another nod.

"You're asking me… to _sew_."

The light finally faded from Noa's expression and his eyes narrowed. A shadow cast over his brow gave him a suddenly ominous look. Seto couldn't help but brace against the shift in moods. The brothers were twins. They were no stranger to competition, and Seto always knew when one was about to begin.

"I'm _telling_ you that if you don't step up and _do something_ , our way of life as we know it will crumble. The choice is yours."


	2. Chapter 2

Seto saw the logic. Gozaburo's tailoring shop was going under without its founder. But he had had no cause to care about the old fool and his traditional ethics. _That_ was Noa's job.

 _Follow the leader blindly and you'll get your just rewards, little puppet_ , Seto thought in a mocking tone.

Seto had to admit that his twin knew a thing or two about the trade. Noa could run one of the gleaming machines a hundred miles an hour with fury, without a single misplaced stitch. And Seto had seen him whip his measuring tape around a client with precision and surety, and he looked like a damn professional doing it. Just like Father had.

But when Seto's dream of going to business school was born, he had never considered running a business in a _service industry_. He saw himself handling paperwork, sitting in management meetings, growing businesses and banking on profits. Working with his mind, using cunning and intelligence to get ahead.

Seto and Noa both took after Gozaburo in the most extreme of senses. But one could have divided the Kaiba patriarch's personality in half with a knife, and each Kaiba twin would be born from the separate halves. Seto and Noa couldn't be more different.

Mokuba, as the youngest, fell into an odd category. He looked up to Seto more than anyone else in the family, but he took after no one in particular. While the elder siblings focused on their career pursuits, Mokuba chose a different path: competitive recreation for profit.

Mokuba battled CapMon chess in tournaments, and took home the prize money when he won, which was often. It was unfortunate, however, that the winnings didn't always balance out the spending in game pieces. In a good season, he might earn himself a little spending money, but that was all.

He, like Noa, was an expert in his field. It was the only thing Mokuba and Noa had in common. Not only did Mokuba win his matches by landslides, but he did so with the suavity and arrogance of a stage performer. He made his money from entertaining others.

Seto, rigid and stark as he was, wondered how on earth anyone could expect him to be able to perform with the grace and dexterity that held up his father's shop for thirty years. If anyone should know Seto better than that, it was his twin brother.

Noa's expression turned expectant the longer the brothers stared each other down.

Seto was the first to back down, but not to admit defeat.

"I won't do it," he finally answered.

"Then you've doomed us. What will Mokuba say?"

Seto's eyes narrowed now.

"I don't deny this task out of defiance. I won't because I can't, and you know it." The words were choked out, as if the dust in Seto's lungs dried them out.

Then they hung in the air, creating the space between them both.

Noa smirked.

"Fine. Then find me someone who can. Use your business management skills to save us. But let me tell you: you'll never find someone worth what Father paid, willing to work for a nobody in the fashion industry."

"A _nobody_?" Seto hissed. "I'm a Kaiba, same as you."

"But they _know_ me here. I've been in this shop since the day I could thread a needle. The clients asked about _Noa Kaiba_. How many of the businessmen we serve in this town do you think have even heard your name, Seto?"

"They'll know me well enough in time," he said, beginning to seethe.

"In time? Half-staffed, do you think our business is going to hold out long enough to finish your degree? How will you pay for it when the money's out?"

"Stop being so dramatic. My threat to sell isn't ruining the business. It's the other half of the tailors who already quit who've ruined us."

"They quit because they _knew_ you'd sell! As soon as Father died, they knew."

"That isn't my fault."

"It doesn't show off your impeccable management capabilities, either. Find me some decent tailors, or learn to sew yourself."

Noa jabbed a finger past Seto's shoulder, pointing to the rack of garments on the intake bar.

"We'll never get through that within the week. All the same, we have to. The clients will have our heads when they come to pick up their suits and they aren't finished."

Seto considered the clients. He didn't care much about the clothes they wore, but letting the Kaiba name be tarnished under his ownership wouldn't help his chances of forming business relationships with those same men and their webs of contacts.

Noa didn't have to have a winning argument for Seto to see that he needed the family business not to fail. Learning to sew was a definite stretch of the imagination. But going into management would mean learning to hire well. He would find tailors before he would ever become one.

Seto felt his eye twitch and blinked. One more glance around the tired-looking room was all he could take.

"You'll have your tailors within the week," he promised. "So you can stop being so dramatic."

* * *

A/N: _They say write what you know. I know tailoring, so this is proving to be the easiest story I may have ever written. I'm trying to limit the jargon, but I'd like to know how that's going as the story progresses._

 _This may move along a little slowly at first, but the chapters are all fairly bite-sized. I'm not even bothering to title each one like I normally would._

 _I shouldn't be doing this, really, since I already have two projects in the works and I'm stretched for time. But I felt like I -and maybe you - might need something lighter to balance out the harsh reality of Moonstruck. As it is, I hope to get up a rough posting schedule. Maybe once or twice a week. (Not every day. This chapter is a fluke to get the story going.)_

 _Anyway, thanks so much for reading!_

 _~ohmygodagiantrock_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: _I'm doing a lot of things I usually wouldn't here. First, this story isn't nearly finished, but I'm posting it anyway. I usually have a rule against this, as it makes_ _posting_ _progress slow and difficult. But this story_ _i_ _s a little different. It's practically writing itself. (That whole write-what-you-know thing is working wonders for me.) That also allows me to post a bit faster, the chapters being so short._

 _Next, I'm not done with my current story, Moonstruck, and I'_ _m not even considering putting it on hiatus_ _. But that one's a difficult story_ _which will take more time_ _, and this one's a bit lighter. It's nice to have a break. I'll be switching back and forth between focusing on the two._

* * *

Seto strolled into the shop pleased that he'd managed to arrive early, only to find Noa already standing in back, lifting the plastic from a pinstriped two-piece suit.

"The shop doesn't open for an hour," Seto said. "What are you doing here?"

Noa scoffed, but didn't answer.

"I have the power to cut your pay, you know," Seto said. "I expect a little more regard than that."

"Someone has to get the steamers running," he muttered. "But go ahead and cut it. Lower my wages before you let anyone else suffer. We need to keep those who've stuck it out. In fact, you might even want to think about bribing them with a raise."

"How is giving the employees a raise going to help profits? They'll all be pulling overtime as it is." The question was hypothetical.

"You're the businessman, Boss. Do it however you want, as long as I get hands in this workroom."

"You'll have them. I advertized an open interview for today. I received three phone calls for the job since yesterday."

Noa laughed openly.

" _Three_? And you think that's great, don't you? Do you know what kind of quality suits Father worked with here?"

Seto glared. "I've been a part of this family just as long as you have, Noa. Fifty-three minutes longer, if you want to be precise about it. I know what Father was good for."

And what he wasn't, Seto thought darkly.

"All I'm saying, Seto, is that even if those three people show up for your little interview today, probably none of them are going to work out. _Maybe_ one, for a while. That's just how this goes. People are finding out about the job openings through the grapevine because tailors talk, but now you're only going to get people easily who want an easy time of getting the job. Don't be a sucker."

"I'll hire whoever I'm going to hire, if it gets the work done. You'll just have to put up with them. I'm expecting you to take care of the training."

"They have to be competent," Noa stated, just as a puff of steam coughed out of the silver tank on the edge of the canvas-covered worktable. Noa picked up the iron and aimed a hot jet of steam at the suit jacket.

The steam that wasn't caught by the garment shot past it straight into Seto's face. He skipped backward to escape the hot, wet air where he could breathe again, as well as anyone could with all the dust.

Noa laughed again.

"You know what they say about kitchens, Seto—if you can't stand the heat..."

"First you demand that I learn how to tailor, then you tell me to get out of the shop. Is that how you want this working relationship to begin?" Seto demanded, wiping the hot moisture off his face. There's a reason I never liked you, you know."

"Don't give me that. You know I'm your favorite."

"Mokuba will always be my favorite. And you know I'm his."

Noa's grin to dropped from his face, and he suddenly appeared very interested in a stubborn fabric crease. Seto almost chuckled to himself. Did the two remaining members of their humble household banding together really upset Noa that much? But he decided to drop it.

Noa and Father had always been strong allies. Now he was alone.

Seto set his briefcase on top of an open sewing desk, pushing a thimble and a tool he knew as a seam ripper out of the way.

"You can't set up there."

"This is where Father always did his paperwork. I've seen him." It was the only part of Gozaburo's job Seto had ever been interested in.

"Doesn't matter. I use that machine. I have a client coming in at ten-fifteen sharp and—"

"Use a different machine. There are seven others to choose from."

"They're not all the same."

Seto glanced around the workroom. Eight of the ten stations used ordinary industrial sewing machines—a blind hemmer and a serger each sat in the two furthest corners. The machines were primarily Juki brand, and a couple of ancient Singers, as Seto had remembering helping his father research. Even as a young teenager, Seto had been giving input into the shop's business decisions.

Most had been bought up from different distributors, and one Seto remembered fast-talking another tailoring shop to sell to Gozaburo. Maybe they weren't _all_ the same, but… they were essentially the same.

Noa huffed when Seto didn't move his briefcase and instead shifted to sit down. He returned the iron to its plate and stomped to his station, yanking Seto's briefcase off the desk. He pinpointed a desk he knew wouldn't be used for the day—its inhabitant had been one of the men who'd quit—and roughly deposited the case.

Then he lifted it and ran a hand along the wooden desk, making sure he hadn't dented it with the case's metal corners.

"There are four empty desks today and you _have_ to choose the one I always use?" Noa muttered as he settled in to his usual station. Then he set out the items he'd need to use, in a habitual fashion. "You can't get in the way of a tailor and his tools," he said loudly.

Seto, sitting down in the new chair, put aside his irritation for a moment to admire his brother's pride. Noa's grating arrogance was something each of the Kaibas carried in their own way—and was quite possibly the only thing that tied them all together.


	4. Chapter 4

Seto wished he had an actual office out of which to conduct his interview, and wondered why his father had never tried to expand the space and add one. Trying to conduct an interview sitting at a _sewing machine_ was already proving difficult and his interviewees hadn't even shown up yet.

When the bell in the front of the shop rang, Noa was already on his feet before Seto had turned his head.

"Hello! Welcome to Kaiba's Coats!" he sang. "My name is Noa. How can I be of assistance this morning?"

Seto could barely make out the second voice, but groaned when he heard the mousy stutter.

"Oh, you're here to see my brother," Noa said. He'll be right with you. Why don't you have a seat in our waiting area?"

Noa came back into the workroom still wearing his friendly smile.

"Your interviewees have begun to arrive."

Seto didn't bother to look up. "I'm not seeing them until everyone has arrived, or the clock says it's time to begin."

"That's a great way to begin a working relationship. You're not even going to greet them?"

"Don't start with me, Noa," Seto snipped. "I'm the one Father left in charge of this business."

"And while you were spending your time learning about businesses in textbooks, I was here, learning how to work in one."

" _One_. All the business experience you're ever going to have in life will exist in this shop. You'll only ever make as much as your boss decides to pay you. I don't want that life."

"You don't have to have it. But you do have to be human to the people you work with."

Seto didn't respond—rather finding the point debatable but not wishing to pursue it. He returned to the paperwork he was trying to familiarize himself with. Soon other employees began to show and set to work. Seto's gaze flickered to their faces occasionally, trying to remember their names, and failing.

He rose when the bell rang again, reminding himself to _try_ to do better with the new hires—if any came of this batch of interviews. He strode into the front room.

The front of the shop was much cleaner, clearly more presentable than the workroom. The two spaces were separated by a swinging door, and the clutter and dust from the workroom wasn't visible from the side the clients could see.

A set of dressing rooms were tucked into one corner, and well lit three-way mirrors in the opposite corner. The rest of the shop was lined with windows letting in sunlight and a view of the busy street.

Cabinet displays filled with ready-made dress shirts, ties and accessories filled the floorspace, while one cabinet was devoted solely to bolts of wool and silk fabrics. Dispersed throughout the space were mannequins dressed in full business attire.

The front of the shop was lined with a row of chairs, where he was surprised to see three people sitting rather than two. Two of them _had_ to be twins, like Noa and himself, or brothers in the least. They sat beside one another, each wearing roughly the same punkish hairstyle. Seto tried not to show his frown. Their hair seemed to be naturally blond—at least in front—but was spiked up in the back and dyed black and crimson.

The third, a girl who looked even younger than Mokuba, sat further away.

"Are all of you here for the interview?" Seto asked. He carried a set of clipboards, and a legal pad on top of the blank applicant pages.

"Yes, sir," said the young girl in a direct tone.

The smaller man silently nodded, but his companion said nothing.

"Are you my third?" Seto asked.

The man shook his head.

"I don't think so."

"This is my cousin," the young man said. "He heard I was coming in for an interview and asked to come along. I hope that's okay."

Seto eyed the man who hadn't spoken yet.

"How much tailoring experience do you have?" Seto asked.

"None, I'm afraid."

Seto felt his eye twitch, and blinked.

"Can you sew?"

"I've never handled a sewing machine before. But I need work, and I'm willing to learn what you need to teach me."

Seto liked the confidence of his tone, but not the arrogance; not the meaning behind his words that seemed to insinuate, "I have as little experience as you do, but I'm certain to be better than you." Seto guessed he hadn't meant it, and let it pass. But he'd all but ruled the man out already.

"Do you have a resume of previous work experience?"

The man simply shook his head.

Seto glanced back to the door of the workroom. Noa said he was busy, that he wanted hands in back. He would have to take what Seto was able to give him. Hopefully the fourth interviewee would be the missing piece the shop needed to succeed. If he showed up.

Seto suppressed a sigh. At least they were dressed well. The young girl wore a gray pant suit, well tailored. The younger cousin wore dark jeans and a well-fitted jacket in royal blue. It wasn't exactly professional but it would pass.

The older cousin wore a similar jacket, but had dared to wear leather pants. Somehow the fact didn't bother Seto like he knew it should. He banked on men's style, now, and no one could deny that the man had a strong sense of style. _To hell with tradition_ , Seto always thought.

He'd never have dared say so in front of his father, though he'd let the phrase slip around Mokuba before and had to bribe him with desserts to keep him quiet. The kid seemed to agree with him anyway, so they shared the secret together.

It was a dangerous concept, Seto knew, to be in charge of his ever-traditional father's business while harboring such a philosophy. If he wasn't careful, Seto might even offend Noa to the point of quitting, and the family business would be dead for certain.

"We have one more interviewee scheduled to show up. When he arrives, or at nine o'clock—whichever comes first—I'll have you all follow me to the back room. I apologize that our accommodations don't currently include a quiet office space," Seto felt the need to include. He'd have to take them in back, knowing he couldn't conduct an interview in earshot of the clients.

He passed each of the three an application on a clipboard and a pen. He held back the last clipboard for himself and wandered the shop to take inventory while he waited. Seto checked his watch periodically, and just as nine rolled around another man strolled up to the door. Seto didn't hide his frown this time.

The man was clearly out of breath, and a sheen on his face and neck said he'd been running some distance.

"May I assist you?" Seto asked, but his tone didn't reflect any hint of helpfulness.

In a huff, the man checked his own watch and whispered, "Made it!" under his breath.

"Are you here for the interview?" Seto asked begrudgingly, and the man nodded.

He looked purely disheveled. His slacks were dragging, his windbreaker hung half-off one shoulder, and the shirt underneath had some kind of logo on it. Even his blond hair appeared to have a sheen to it, and Seto grimaced to think of how long ago it had been washed. Another applicant nearly counted out.

If Seto had learned anything from his father's business aside from, well, business, he learned how to dress properly. His own stark white coat hung on a hook in the workroom, but his black button-down shirt and crisp wool slacks were pressed to perfection.

Seto gritted his teeth. The best way he knew to teach prospective employees how to act was to lead. He spoke not a word as he stalked pointedly through the shop, stopping only to throw a glance back at the applicants before ducking inside.


	5. Chapter 5

The young girl was the first to poke her head inside. After a quick glance around, she entered, flowing with confidence. She located Seto and reached him, standing before his desk. The other three followed.

Seto nodded and gestured to the empty desks beside him. Then he realized there were only four empty desks, and rose to offer the young girl his seat. He stood in the aisle between the four desks, noting that at least three sets of eyes were on him. The young man who had almost come in late was picking at a fingernail. Seto had to clear his throat twice to get his attention so he could hand him the last clipboard.

"You can fill this out now," he said, collecting the others' papers and thumbing through them briefly. "I apologize again for the lack of office space. But—"

"I'm not bothered by—" the younger cousin started, but Seto cut him off with a no-nonsense glare.

" _I'm_ bothered by it," he said. "Do not interrupt me."

Seto was suddenly aware of Noa's eyes on him, but pushed it out of his mind.

The young man pursed his lips and shrank back into his desk. Seto tried to picture him working with the kinds of arrogant customers Seto knew the shop served, but couldn't. He knew a passive personality would be easy to mold, but only so useful. Still, he wasn't ready to count him out with the other men yet.

"This is the best we have for today," Seto finished, just as a tailor flicked on his machine and the motor whirred to life, and he had to raise his voice over the noise. "How many of you _do_ have prior tailoring experience?"

The young girl and the timid cousin were the only ones to raise their hands. He made a point not to look in Noa's direction as his brother rose to the steamer with a torn-open coat.

"Names?" Seto asked each of them.

"Rebecca," said the young girl. "Hopkins," she added as an afterthought.

Seto eyed her application. "You're old enough to hold a position?" he asked.

"Not technically," she said matter-of-factly, without a hint of hesitation in her voice. "Not full-time, anyway. I am sixteen though, so I'm only allowed by law to work a given number of hours in a week. But I'm happy to give you all I can."

"I'm familiar with the laws, thank you." Seto nodded to the cousins to go next.

"Atem," said the older.

"Yugi," said the younger.

"And the same question to you, Yugi. Are you old enough to work?" Seto wasn't sure he had to ask, but then wasn't sure he didn't, either.

Yugi nodded enthusiastically. "I'm twenty."

Seto blinked, then scanned the application of Yugi's cousin.

"We're the same age, almost," Yugi clarified. "But I know what you're thinking."

Seto waved off the explanation. People had constantly confused him for Noa's older brother. He was, of course, though the less-than-an-hour difference only counted within the confines of petty arguments. Seto nodded to the disheveled blond frantically scribbling on his paperwork.

"Wheeler," said the man. "Joey."

"Do you go by Joseph?" Seto asked.

The man shook his head.

"You will here."

Joseph opened his mouth, but Seto didn't give him a chance to protest.

"You will learn to dress appropriately for a shop that fine-tailors men's clothing." His eyes were on Wheeler when he said this, forcing him to sit back and glance around, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "I expect, if not full two-piece suits, then clean, well-pressed dress slacks and button down shirts. Hopkins, you are free to dress in slacks or skirts as your preference dictates."

She nodded.

"Have any of you heard of a man who goes by the name of Maximillion Pegasus?"

All eyes were on him now.

"Seigfried von Schroeder? Or the corporate mastermind who has only to go by the name of Dartz?"

Seto looked around at the applicants, pleased to see the fear in their expressions.

"My father ran this business for thirty years. Those men and their colleagues are the kind of clients this shop serves. You will be professional adults for as long as you represent this business and the Kaiba family name, inside this shop and outside of it. You will respond to what I decide to call you. You will follow directions without questioning authority. Do I make myself clear?"

All eyes were on him, like four deer in the headlights of a semi truck. Nobody moved.

"Good."

Seto had given some thought to what title he would like the workers to call him, but nothing satisfactory had come to him. He didn't want employees, let alone practical _strangers_ calling him Seto. It felt too personal. Too intimate. Gozaburo had always been Mister Kaiba, but now the Misters Kaiba were two.

He could always force his twin to go by Noa. Part of him wanted to take the claim of Mister Kaiba for himself, but the rational side knew that Noa would never allow the unfair discrepancy to pass. To bypass the inevitable dispute, he decided on something to settle with.

"There have been more than enough "Mister Kaiba"'s associated with this business, two of which will share this room frequently. I have no qualms with which title you choose to give my brother, but you will address me as "Sir"."

"Yes, Sir," answered the young girl. The rest remained silent, some giving a nod.

His eyes traced over the four veteran employees, searching for indignant glances or sneers. He noticed a couple of odd looks, but nothing that clearly spelled out defiance.

Seto Kaiba didn't care if he was half the age of the next youngest employee, the rest even more aged. _He_ signed the paychecks. _He_ was the boss, the head of the business. He didn't care if they were insulted.

Seto stood with his back against the far wall, watching each of the four interviewees as they familiarized themselves with the machines.

Sixteen to twenty-one years old—the blond was just old enough to drink. Seto smirked. Even if they were a rough bunch, he was training the next generation. If Gozaburo could see what he was doing hiring untrained young adults, he'd turn over in his grave.

Seto nodded his head to the greasy blond.

He wanted to start with the young girl—she seemed the most professional of the bunch, even if she was still high-school aged. But he wanted to weed out the bad seeds before he got too far into the process.

"Wheeler?"

"Yeah?"

"Sit outside with me. I'd like a one-on-one interview with each of you, and I'll begin with you."

Seto snapped his fingers at Noa, who flashed him an irritated glare but went on sewing. Seto narrowed his eyes and stalked up to his desk, the blond trailing several strides behind him.

Placing one hand on Noa's worktable and leaned in to whisper in his ear. His voice came quiet enough to sound menacing while keeping some privacy.

"Noa, you do _not_ have the authority to ignore me out of irritation. I have four interviews to do back to back. I can't keep these people here all day."

Noa stared up at him, eyebrows scrunched.

"Don't you give me that insulted glare. It's never worked on me." He snapped his fingers again, forcing Noa to flinch. "When I need your attention, I expect you to give it to me. You are not the only person here with tasks to accomplish."

Noa's eyes narrowed in a dangerous expression he'd seen painted on Gozaburo's face a handful of times. It seemed a strong rendition, but Seto wasn't put off. He was bigger, stronger, faster, smarter—even if Noa would dispute that point. Noa couldn't pose a threat to him.

"Yes, Sir?" he asked in a thick tone, speaking with emphasis. "How may I assist you?"

Seto didn't drop his glare. Joseph stood behind him now, and Seto could see from the corner of his eye that she was pretending to be interested in the rack of spools on the wall.

"I would appreciate it if you would start the other three interviewees in their sewing test."

He said nothing more as he pulled away from the desk and moved to the door. He led Joseph through, but when he glanced over his shoulder and Noa still hadn't moved, Seto fumed.

He snapped his fingers once again, taking silent joy in making Noa flinch a second time.

" _Now!_ "

Noa slammed his seam ripper on his desk and stood. He took a breath to compose himself and painted on a pleasant smile before turning to the testers, the kind of gesture Seto knew he himself would never be able to fake.


	6. Chapter 6

Seto led Joseph to the cafe table just outside the shop and gestured to the chair. He sat down across from him and flipped his clipboard pages until his application came on top. He gave it a quick scan while Joseph fidgeted from across the table.

With only fast-food listed in his recent employment history, and a couple of black marks on his criminal record—shoplifting, trespassing. Seto saw nothing promising on the sheet. Joseph had a recent high school diploma, and based on his age it sounded like he had had to repeat a year. At least he'd graduated. Something about his appearance had made Seto unsure.

Seto let out a long sigh.

"You aren't going to make me waste my time, are you?"

Joseph blinked and sat back.

"I don't plan on it."

"You probably don't wanna know all my personal details. I haven't had the greatest life growin' up. That ain't your problem and I'm sure as all hel—heck—that you don't care. But I'm tryin' to make a start for myself. I can't do that if no one lets me in the door."

Seto scanned the dates of his employment history. He'd been out of work, it seemed, for four months. He wasn't feeling sympathetic—if the man didn't match Seto's goals for the business he wouldn't be hired. But, if he was trying to make an effort, and was willing to work with Seto to clean himself up, he might just be dedicated enough to put in some real work.

Then again, maybe he would be hiring a useless shmuck. Who could know?

"So you came because this is an open interview and you didn't have to wait for a call back you probably wouldn't get. Is that about right?"

"You called it."

"You have a bit of a criminal record," he said, but noted that the charges were a few years old.

"I figure that's usually what keeps people from callin' me in."

Seto set down the clipboard and folded his hands. "I'll be honest with you, Mister Wheeler. If I had been handed this application without the open interview, the paper would have gone straight into the trash."

Seto stared him down for a few long seconds, waiting until his gaze flicked down to the tabletop. The kid was humble, Seto had to admit.

"But since you're here, I'll be generous. I want you to tell me three things about you that should make me consider giving you a skills evaluation."

Joseph looked up again, and a nervousness had surfaced on his features.

"Three? Ah… well. I, uh, you can see I've got some construction jobs listed. I'm not afraid of any hard work, or learnin' new stuff."

Seto nodded once to acknowledge that he'd used up a point already. He doubted the man would be able to come up with three.

"I… I'm outta a job and I gotta get some cash, so I'll be happy to work for peanuts."

Seto wasn't certain that counted as a point.

"I'm looking to hire people who can give me quality work and I'm willing to pay accordingly. I don't want to pay low wages for work that won't satisfy my clients."

"Sure. But you don't have to start me on nothin' big. You could pay me peanuts to do grunt work. I don't consider myself above nothin'. Heck, you could pay me to scrub your toilets, and I wouldn't complain."

"We hire a contracted cleaning service. But I get your point."

Wheeler nodded and went on.

"And maybe the third is that I ain't really got no friends."

"I'm sorry," Seto said, "could you repeat that, but in _grammatical_ English?"

The comment seemed to surprise Joseph, but he bounced back quickly.

"Sorry. I don't have friends."

"Why should that be a benefit to me?"

"'Cause your sheet there asked questions that ain't— _aren't—_ relevant anymore. Those facts don't define me as a person."

"Elaborate."

"I stole some stuff, more than just the one time I got caught for it. But I can promise you, the time I got caught is the last time it happened. The trespassing? Cops busted me and some friends having a meeting in an abandoned building." He paused, caught Seto's eye, then, "Want the specifics?"

"I'll admit to being… morbidly curious as to the nature of your "meeting"."

"Gang initiation."

Seto raised his eyebrows. "Yours, I take it?"

Joseph shook his head. "Nah. I had mine already. Been a member for years. Joined when I was thirteen. I was the baby of the bunch, though, they didn't make me do too much for a while. They was initiating— _were—_ initiating someone else when the cops showed. No one got out in time, but the couple of thugs higher up the food chain got busted for assault and resistin' and a bunch of other crap. I just got nabbed for bein' there. They went easy on me, even if I didn't really do noth—anything—but attend."

Joseph wore a disgusted grin, but kept silent. Seto didn't break into his reverie.

"And I realize I probably just shot myself in the foot with all that. But all I mean to say is, I don't hang around that crowd no more. Anymore. I got out, and I don't have friends, and that's fine with me. It means there's no one left to drag me back in to all that garbage. But I gotta make a living somehow, and I think that if I knew how long I'd be payin' for those mistakes when I was a stupid kid, I might'a done a lot of things different."

Suddenly, the unkempt greasy-looking kid who'd stumbled in to the shop at the last second seemed simultaneously more admirable, and more repulsive, than Seto had first thought possible.

"Anyway," Joseph said, slapping the table and standing. "That's all I've got for you. Thanks for the ear. I'd say I'll see you around… but probably not."

Seto stood with him, and considered letting him walk away. But another moment's thought made him reconsider.

"Where are you going?" he asked as the man passed by, away from the shop.

Joseph furrowed his brows and spun to face Seto, sticking his thumb over his shoulder.

"I just figured…"

"We're not done. There's still a skills evaluation."

"But I thought—"

"Maybe you should stop trying to think and figure, and just listen for a moment."

Joseph's hands dropped to his sides, and he faced Seto straight on.

"I need workers. I need _good_ workers, preferably, but if I can't find them I'll have to make them. If you can pass my brother's sewing test, I may still consider you for employment. If you can't manage the simple aptitude test, however, we'll part ways today."

Joseph was still for a long moment, but eventually he nodded his head silently and allowed Seto to lead him back into the shop.

Noa was placed in charge of the sewing instruction. He may have only been the head tailor's apprentice—he'd only been officially employed for four years, only two of them being full-time. But he was the most familiar with Gozaburo's quality of workmanship and ideals. Seto also knew he would insist on training the testers, arguing the point for far longer than Seto would care to fight it.

He led Joseph to the back of the room, to the only remaining empty machine. Noa glanced up as they approached, a look of bewilderment marring him.

"Go ahead and start Mister Wheeler on a machine. He advertises no experience, but he's worked with his hands before. We'll give him a try."

Noa leaned in to Seto to speak in his ear.

"I can't work with someone who's never touched a sewing machine before, Seto," he said, speaking with mild discretion.

Seto stood back and spoke in a normal volume, with no intentions of concealing his words. "Noa, I already told you that you will take whomever I choose to hire. There will be no arguments about this. Now," he pointed to Joseph, ushering him towards the machine. "Teach him to sew something."

With a begrudging stare, Noa worked to set Joseph up at the machine, displaying much more patience with him than he seemed capable of with Seto.

Seto peered over his applications again, choosing the short little punk to rule out next.

"You," he said, too distracted to remember the boy's name. He pointed over his shoulder and led the way out front, making him abandon his scrap of fabric.

* * *

When they reached the cafe table, the young man offered Seto his hand. This surprised Seto, and he found himself annoyed with that fact. He took it briefly.

"Remind me of your name," he said, settling in.

"Yugi Muto."

He glanced over the application, seeing no dark marks of a criminal record or long-term unemployment, but no relevant experience either.

"Turtle Games?"

"Yeah. That's my grandfather's business. He runs it out of our basement, so I've been helping with it…" he shrugged, "pretty much my whole life."

"So your longest employment reference is a member of your own family?"

Yugi hesitated before saying "Uh… yes."

Seto didn't hide his frown.

"And what are your duties at this shop?"

"I help with inventory—ordering and loading, I handle customers—"

"Would you say you have a lot of customer service experience?"

"Yes," he said, somewhat sheepishly.

He sounded like the type of person who wouldn't want to work with Seto's customers any more than Seto wanted him to.

"I also work to advertise the shop when I'm out. I bring in customers that otherwise never would have heard of the shop."

"What exactly _is_ Turtle Games?"

"We're a game store. Board games, puzzles, card games, TCG's, RPG's, memorabilia, whatever you can think of. Oh, and loads of one-of-a-kind gaming artifacts from foreign countries. But my grandpa's not quite up to date enough to stock electronics. We don't sell video games."

Seto narrowed his eyes. "Located near the town square?"

"That's the one," he grinned.

"I think my brother buys his CapMon equipment from you."

Yugi blinked. He glanced over his should at Kaiba's Coats. "Your brother?"

Seto snorted. "No. My little brother."

Yugi brightened. "Oh! You're a Kaiba," he said as though he'd forgotten. "I knew I'd heard the name from somewhere. He's that kid with the long dark hair, right? Teenager?"

"That would be him."

"Then you might've heard another feature of the game shop. We host local game tournaments occasionally."

"I did know that. But we're not here to discuss your current employment."

Yugi nodded. "Right. Sorry."

"May I ask why you're leaving the game shop, when you seem so clearly enthusiastic about it?"

"I love that my grandfather's shop exists. I love playing games, and I love talking about the games he sells. I… don't love selling them."

"I see. Not your preferred field. We can work with that. You said you have prior sewing experience? Since I don't see it listed in your work history, may I assume your experience is personal only?"

"Yeah. Nothing too major. I learned from a friend who recently moved to New York to attend school. But she's always been better than me. She makes her own dance costumes."

Seto nodded absently. "Do you have any notable accomplishments to date?"

Yugi shrugged. "I know it's a little odd to hear about high school boys sewing their clothes, but that was most of my experience."

Seto inflicted eye contact that made Yugi appear comically uncomfortable. "There's nothing wrong with men sewing. Here, we call them tailors, and we leave our stigmas at the door."

"Of course."

"Now, why don't you tell me what you can do?"

"Sure. I started when my friend—the one I mentioned—found an old machine in her grandmother's attic. It didn't work, so we opened it up and started toying around with it."

"Approximately what age would you guess this was?"

"Oh, we were just little kids. I think I was in third grade?"

Seto raised his eyebrows. "Third grade and you took a sewing machine apart?"

Yugi shrugged. "It seemed like the thing to do. I really enjoy puzzles."

Seto could see the connection, along with the appreciation. He could see himself fixing the machines before he ever saw himself using them.

"So we got the machine working again after a few months and taught ourselves to use it. We had a little help from my friend's grandmother."

"So you're also familiar with machine maintenance and troubleshooting."

"Uh-huh."

"What's the most notable sewing project you've taken part in?"

"I have a bit of an odd style, so I made most of my clothes in high school. I learned to sew on leather, too. I altered the pants my cousin is wearing today," then Yugi stared down at the table. "But I tried to tell him not to wear them."

Seto dismissed the notion. "That's on him, not you. But I find myself mildly impressed you've learned to work with leather." Seto didn't comprehend the difference himself, but knew that leather was something to struggle with compared to fine wool.

"It's not that difficult," Yugi said. "A little tissue underneath and it glides right through the machine."

Seto nodded absently. He really didn't need to be instructed by his potential workers.

"But you're dodging the question."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Not dodging, just side-tracked. I think the most difficult project I've overcome is the alterations I've made to my school uniforms. I know they seem a little non-traditional, but I've cut out a few of my jackets to be worn, ah, kinda like a cape. On weekends though, you know?"

"Interesting," Seto said, and half-way meant it. He was having a little trouble picturing the wimpy kid across from him sporting a cape anywhere that wasn't some kind of game convention. On his cousin, on the other hand, the look might fit for street-casual wear.

"Plus, I'm so short I usually have to alter most of my clothes. My jeans and slacks and sleeves."

Seto tapped his application papers on the edge of the table.

"I think I've learned all I need to about you for now, Muto."


	7. Chapter 7

Seto ran his fingers over the stitch line on the hem scrap Noa handed him.

"Even stitching, good tension," he muttered to Yugi. "You can sew a straight line."

Yugi's cheeks turned pink.

"I'd like to show you a little more of my capabilities, if you don't mind."

Seto shook his head, then raised his voice. "If you four haven't noticed, we have a few empty seats in this room. I'm looking to fill them, to take the pressure off of the backs of the rest of our workers. While I may be fond of an opportunity to show-off myself, there's time for that later. You can run a machine, and that's all we're looking for right now. We'll handle specialized training later."

"Does that mean…?" Yugi began, but didn't finish.

"I've seen all I need to from you. You're free to go for today, and if we decide we're interested, you'll receive a call within the week."

Once Yugi was dismissed, Seto pointed at the taller of the cousin-set. "You're next, but before we begin our interview I'd like to see what you've accomplished."

He held out a hand for the scrap of wool, which Noa handed to him.

Both edges of the hem cut-off had been finished. One was sewn in with a perfect half-inch rolled hem. He examined the stitching, then noted that after the initial straight stitch Noa must have walked him through, the other half of the scrap had been run through the serger and blind-hemmed like a standard slacks hem. No stitches poked through to the front of the scrap, and yet the entire hem was sewn securely.

He shoved the scrap back into Noa's hands.

"Can we get our testers _clean_ scraps to work on, please?"

Noa ground his teeth, but when he spoke the words were calm. "This _was_ a clean scrap. After getting a handle on the rolled hem, Atem wanted to move on. So I showed him the blind hem myself, and this was his first result." Noa pushed the scrap back at Seto.

Seto eyed Atem. "Natural aptitude, then. That might work in our favor. Let's go."

Atem said nothing as he was led outside.

Before the men had even settled in, Seto asked, "Why are you here?"

"I'm new in town, and Yugi is my only strong contact."

"Right. Cousins, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Our fathers are bro—"

Seto waved a hand. "I really don't need the details. What I want to know is why, when I put out an ad for a tailoring position, did you decide to come?"

"It sounds like a job to me."

Seto leaned forward. "I don't care for your attitude. If you don't want to be here, you don't have to be."

Atem let a smirk rise up on his lips. "You saw what I'm capable of doing. Aren't you trying to fill seats?"

Seto narrowed his eyes. "Do not speak to me as if I already need _you_. From what I understand, you're the one looking for employment. If I have to train anybody up from the ground, I would rather start with someone willing to work with me rather than someone willing to shove natural talent in my face."

Atem sunk back in his seat, but he looked relaxed rather than scolded.

"Do you sew, Mister Kaiba?"

"This interview is about you, not me."

"I'm just curious."

"Irrelevant." He fidgeted with the fabric in his hands. "How am I supposed to believe that you sewed this scrap, never having touched a sewing machine before today?"

Atem shrugged, and Seto's eye switched.

"I can't answer that. Your brother watched me do it, so to whatever extent you believe him…"

"He loves this business. He would never advocate for a hire he didn't believe in."

"But you don't."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't love the business."

"I think we need to refocus this meeting. But if you can't take it seriously, I may be wasting time and breath."

"I'm sorry you don't like my attitude. I'm not sure what I can do about that. You've met my cousin already—you see, we're very close, but we're very different. If you think you can get another _him_ out of _me_ , then maybe you are wasting your time and breath." He leaned forward again, resting his forearms on the table. "But I think that, if you're willing to look past _me_ and focus on what I can _do_ , we might be able to work together."

Seto felt suddenly winded. He understood—to an extent anyway—what the man was trying to say, but his way with words was puzzling. But the notion of working _together_ with any of his employees was an insult.

"And if you don't mind," Atem went on, "You didn't answer my question."

"Listen, Muto. I am not here to answer your questions. You've listed no criminal background, but you've also listed no work experience." At least that Wheeler kid could work. "How is that supposed to help me decide about you?"

"You don't need that paper to decide. You've met me. It shouldn't take you long to realize that when I want something, I'm willing to battle for it. I've decided that this is what I want to do. What lies in my past doesn't effect that."

Seto was silent a moment.

"I disagree," he said after some time. "I expected something shady from that other interviewee, but this 'dark and mysterious past' vibe I'm getting from you tops anything I heard from him. Do you realize I have to run a background check on you if you'll be hired? If you've neglected to provide any of the information—"

"I do realize there will be a check. I promise you won't find anything too concerning. Though, I may have forgotten to return a library book when I was a child."

"I still don't feel you're taking this seriously, and I'm very tempted to send you home."

But if the only tester worth his time was turned away, Noa would never allow him to forget.

 _To hell with it,_ Seto thought. Noa would have to work with him, not Seto. Why should he care what kind of attitude he had, as long as the work was done?

"What can I do to prove to you I'm worth your resources?"

"What can you do to prove you won't steal from my till? Or that you can handle my clients? Or that you'll even show up for work? Do you have a single reference I can contact that will vouch for your reliability and trustworthiness?"

"I've worked for my great-uncle's game shop. I'm confident Yugi told you all about the Turtle."

"Why didn't you list this as employment history?"

"I never got paid except occasionally under the table. I didn't think that counted."

"And if I call this man, who's to say he won't give me gushing praise about you and your cousin, simply for the sake of being family?"

"He will. That's also why I didn't list him as a reference. Doesn't count, does it?"

Seto suppressed a growl. "Is there _anything_ you can tell me that I can use?"

"I know your baby brother," Atem claimed in a flat tone.

The words forced a cold shiver down Seto's back. He scratched at the back of his neck to rid the flesh of the tingling sensation. The words made him feel uncomfortable in a way he couldn't explain. They sounded… almost like a threat.

" _And_?"

"He can't beat me at CapMon, though I've lost count on how many times he's tried."

"You've played him in tournament matches?"

"Mostly basement matches at the Turtle shop, but I've crossed paths with him at a couple of conventions. I've never shown up late or missed a match. You could verify that against his word."

"You're using _my_ little brother as a professional reference as to why I should hire you?"

"I've told you that this is what I want. Now you've seen what I'm willing to do to get in the door."

* * *

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay. I've been on vacation, but now I'm home. Updates should return to a more frequent frequency. Thank you so much, everyone who's been reading. You've all been so encouraging with this story!


	8. Chapter 8

"Last one," he announced, gesturing to Rebecca.

"Where's Atem?" Noa asked.

"We finished. I sent him home."

Noa's indignant glare was enough payment for Seto's day. He decided not to tell him just then that Atem would likely be hired.

Seto led Rebecca to the cafe table just outside the shop and pulled out a chair for her. He sat down across from her and flipped his papers until her application sat on top.

"I'm the owner of this business. The young man in the workroom is Noa. He's my brother, and he's very good at what he does, but he holds no specific position other than 'tailor'. If you are hired, he'll be doing your training, but any concerns or issues you may have will need to be brought to me."

"I understand, Sir."

"My name is Seto," he added, purely for information's sake. "But the only person who will be using that name is my brother."

"I understand, Sir."

"I also go by Mister Kaiba, though that was my late father's title, and you may find some of the talk in the workroom confusing if you learn to address me as such. He built this shop himself over thirty years ago, and is still discussed frequently. Find whatever title is comfortable to you."

He looked over her application again, seeing that she had listed in the education section, a high school diploma.

"Sixteen?" he asked, as if he wasn't certain he caught the detail correctly the first time.

She nodded. "I know, I'm young. But I graduated from high school already, and my grandfather wants me to find something to do with my summer."

"So this will be a summer job for you?" he asked, not trying to conceal his concerned tone. He didn't comment on her being an early graduate, but was impressed by it nonetheless. Maybe she had a good head on her shoulders.

Seto had skipped a few grades early on himself, as had Noa, but he was four years older than the interviewee and still working through his MBA. Loathe as he was to admit it, for the first time he'd known in his life, he was sitting an arm's length from someone in his age range who might just be smarter than him—than he was _at her age_ , he corrected himself. She had yet to prove her capabilities.

"That's not what I meant. I'm enrolled in college for the fall, and I'm going for a fashion design degree. I'll have less availability then but I'd like to continue part time when the summer ends, if possible."

"Art school?"

"I know I probably don't look the type. I'm going for the marketing aspect, but I want to familiarize myself with the industry as a whole. That includes the sewing, the pattern making, the design."

Seto folded his hands under his chin.

"You sound very dedicated to your goals. Is there a particular reason you're interested in immersing yourself in this industry?"

He watched her face fall into a frown, and a steely glint flash in her eyes.

"I'm tired of watching women let themselves be sexualized by the fashion industry. I may not be able to make any significant changes in the eyes of the people, but I might be able to ripple the waters in marketing. If I can do even that, I'll be satisfied with my accomplishments."

Seto sat back, letting his hands fall into his lap, eyebrows raised.

"Well. You do have quite the head on your shoulders, don't you? I'm going to wager a guess you've done a little research into my father's shop, then?"

An enthusiastic nod. "I think learning hands-on men's tailoring is a great place for me to start. You might notice on my application that my birthday was recent. I've been waiting to turn sixteen just to apply. I've been looking forward to this opportunity."

"I see," he said. "And you said you have some experience?"

She gave a soft smile, but her gaze dropped down to the tabletop.

"My mother taught me to sew when I was little. Just home-sewing, you understand. Aprons and quilts and jean hems. But we all get our start somewhere, I guess. I'm home- and self-taught. I have no professional training." She raised her arms and flashed her sleeves. "I did alter this jacket, though. The slacks are hemmed by hand—I know you use machines to do it here, but..."

"It's a start." She had more experience, then, than he did, but he wasn't about to mention that. "Well, Miss Hopkins, I think your attitude shows promise. I'd like to consider taking you on."

She grinned, not showing too much excitement, but appearing eager.

"Thank you, Sir."

He nodded and stood, shook her hand, and led her back inside. Maybe one of them had promise after all.

* * *

Training the four new recruits proved to be rough, but Seto sat back and let Noa handle most of it. He watched the workload suffer for it, however. After the first few weeks, Noa began spending significantly less time on his sewing machine and more hanging over the shoulders of the new employees, trying to tweak their abilities to his tastes.

Joseph needed the most help, and Seto wondered if he regretted hiring him. But the man was a quick study when it came to the simple things, so Noa let him stick to hemming slacks, and hadn't allowed him out on the floor to fit clients yet.

Seto agreed with the decision, even if it meant that Noa overloaded himself with more work. Joseph had tried his best to clean up his look, but Seto had to figure it may take a few paychecks before he would show up in the pressed slacks and dress shirt Seto had specified. He let it slide.

Noa's temperament grew uglier as the days went by, and his attitude was taken out primarily on Seto.

"You're wasting my time with these people," he said the moment Seto entered the shop's workroom early in the morning. The twins had the business to themselves.

"I did what you asked me to."

"One round of interviews and you've filled up all my empty seats with novices? Aren't you still advertising the position?"

"I am, but like you said, all the seats are full. If something better comes along, I won't bat an eyelash having to fire the lowest common denominator to free up a machine."

"Good. You won't put that responsibility on me."

Seto growled. "You are not the damn owner, Noa! You _can't_ fire anybody! Stop trying to do my job."

"Then get me the tools I need to do mine."

Seto ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to yank on in frustration. He was doing the best damn job he could with the trash-heap of a situation he had been handed.

But he forced himself to take a breath. It would be too easy to slip back into old routines, and egging Noa on would be a surefire way to do it.

There were reasons Mokuba favored Seto.

"When we first started this, you asked me to believe in magic. I can't perform spells to whip this place back into shape. We're both going to have to have patience."

"Look at that workload, Seto. Tell me you think I have time to be patient."

Seto's briefcase still in hand, he swung around and swept out of the workroom.

"Where are you going?"

"I can't do this with you, Noa," Seto called over his shoulder without slowing.

But Noa was quick, and dashed before him before he could react.

Startled, Seto raised his free arm in front of his chest before he knew what he was doing. Noa blinked, looking confused, but didn't flinch.

Noa had never hit him. Maybe when they were children, and he didn't know how else to get his point across yet. But Noa was too much like their father for Seto's comfort at times. In a way, Gozaburo's tumble had been the best thing for Seto and Mokuba.

Noa, oblivious as usual to problems that didn't affect him, crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at his twin defiantly. Seto forced his train of thought to take a different course, allowing himself to chuckle inwardly at the several-inch height difference between the two brothers. Despite them being twins, the men hardly resembled one another. Seto doubted Noa would ever catch up to his height.

"You still have to do payroll. You didn't take the time cards. Our employees need their paychecks."

"I see you're making strides to compromise, but you're still off-base. They're _my_ employees, just like you are. I mean it, Noa. Stop trying to run this business."

"When are you going to—"

Seto jingled the set of keys in his hand. "I can come back whenever I want. Frankly, you've pissed me off. I'm going to class today. I'll get your payroll done," Seto patted Noa's cheek with a condescending smile, "so you don't have to worry that pretty—"

" _Stop_ calling me pretty," he bit out, shoving Seto away.

Seto rolled his eyes and pushed past his brother, out the front door he had just come in. He dropped his briefcase in the seat beside him and drove off. Seto checked his watch. He wanted to take his day classes rather than waiting for the evening lectures, but they didn't start for over an hour. He would have a forty-minute window between arriving at the university and the beginning of his first class, after factoring in travel time.

He pulled out of the parking lot and down the road. A few minutes into the trip he took a detour down a familiar but long-forgotten route.


	9. Chapter 9

Seto pulled into the parking lot of the Domino City Cemetery, shut off his car and passed through the ornate iron gates on foot. He hadn't been to the cemetery since Gozaburo was buried a year ago. But he hadn't come exclusively to visit his mother, who lay beside him, in much longer.

He struggled momentarily to remember which paths to take. But after a few minutes of walking, he found his way and stood before her gravestone.

Usually, he would have sat on the grass, but seeing Gozaburo's name on the stone beside hers made him uneasy. Something about his presence—not that Seto believed in spirits—disturbed the peace of the sanctuary. It wasn't the same place anymore if his mother had company.

Usually, Mokuba came with him. They sat on the grass together, and talked. Mokuba, mostly, Seto realized. He hardly ever came alone. Noa hardly ever accompanied them. But the stillness felt too quiet, and Seto felt pushed to break it. To say something, even if that was usually Mokuba's task.

He took in a deep breath, enjoying the cool scent of the morning air. Regardless of what most people felt about cemeteries, Seto often found his visits peaceful and relaxing. It seemed to be the only quietude he could find in his life.

"Mother," he began, not entirely certain where he was headed. "I miss you. Mokuba misses you. We don't always talk about you much anymore, but we still think of you."

Seto didn't usually offer any more than that.

But even if he wasn't normally one to talk to the deceased, he realized that without Mokuba present he was more free to say things he wouldn't normally say. He glanced warily at his father's gravestone, as if concerned that he might come up from the earth and display his rage.

Seto leaned forward, bending his knees toward his chest and hooking his hands around his legs.

"I was afraid… afraid that losing Father would be as difficult on our family as it was to lose you. But it hasn't. His death has brought me to realize that we've always had difficulties—mostly Noa and I. But Father and I… well, that's one battle I won't have to fight anymore. I know it would hurt you to hear me say this, but I won't miss him. You loved him, but… I don't."

* * *

The exhaust of Seto's car gave a heavy cough as he pulled into the garage of his home. He sighed as he climbed out and slammed the door shut, resisting the urge to kick the vehicle before walking away. It needed replacing, but with the family's financial future up in the air, he couldn't justify it yet.

He juggled his briefcase and keys as he reached for the door to let himself in, but it opened before he could touch the knob.

"Thanks," Seto mumbled, walking past the teenager hidden under a mess of dark hair and wandered straight into the kitchen.

"You're late," Mokuba said. He didn't sound particularly wounded, but followed Seto closely into the kitchen.

"Noa's even later."

Mokuba ducked his head around the corner, as if waiting for his brother to appear any moment. "He's not with you?"

"I went to class today. He must be pulling overtime."

"He always pulls overtime."

"Extra overtime, I guess."

Seto reached into the freezer and retrieved a small carton of caramel ice cream.

Mokuba's eyes lit up, and he dashed to a drawer to pull out two spoons. He traded Seto's spoon for the carton, tore it open and drove his own spoon deep into the carton.

"You know the drill," Seto said, eyebrows raised.

Mokuba nodded, slowly licking the massive mound of ribboned dessert. "Rinse off the spoon before taking another bite. Who invented bowls, anyway?" he asked with a scoff.

Seto ignored the ice cream, though he didn't put the spoon away. He dug into a refrigerator drawer and found a bag of carrot sticks.

"What are we having for dinner?" Mokuba asked between licks.

"Not ice cream," Seto warned.

The teenager appeared suddenly sheepish and, after a second massive spoonful, cleaned off his spoon and let it rest in the sink.

Seto dipped a carrot stick directly into the ice cream carton, making Mokuba wrinkle his nose.

"I can't tell if you just improved the carrot, or ruined the ice cream."

"You do dessert your way, I'll do it mine. Carrots are naturally sweet, they're practically dessert anyway."

Mokuba shrugged and put the carton back into the freezer.

"But you can order a pizza if you want. The usual. I've got too much to do tonight to worry about cooking."

The boy brightened again. "Sure. Three-quarters supreme for us, one-quarter veggie for Noa?"

Seto nodded, cracking another carrot stick with his teeth. Mokuba dashed to the kitchen table, where the laptop the brothers shared sat, and began to place the order.

"Hey, kid. What do you think about the idea of moving?"

He gave a half-shrug as he worked through the order. "I'm game. Where to?"

Seto scoffed. "I haven't even said where yet, and you're already decided?"

He shrugged again. "I can take my career anywhere. CapMon tournaments are international."

Seto would hardly call the boy's interest a "career", but he didn't argue the point.

"What about school?"

"School's alright. I think I could probably find another high school, somewhere. Maybe there are more cute girls in another city."

"Won't you miss your friends?" Seto asked, but in reality he knew that Mokuba's closest friends were teenagers he'd met through tournaments, and he connected with them online more than enough.

"Nah," was all Mokuba offered. "I might miss my phys. ed. teacher, though," he said turning back to Seto with a wink.

Seto rolled his eyes.

"Are you aware that Miss Valentine is one of Father's clients? I hope you're polite to her." _Not lewd_ , he wanted to say, but expected that the idea was implied.

"Aren't Father's clients just _your_ clients now?"

Seto didn't answer. He had a difficult time thinking of the business as his own, even now. It was never supposed to be permanent. He had wanted to wash his hands of the business as quickly as possible.

"And yes, I know she goes to the shop. But speaking of the shop… we're not really moving, are we? How would you ever get Noa to leave KC?"

"Who said anything about Noa coming with?"

Mokuba winced. "Is it really that bad?"

"Would you come with me if I said it was?"

"In a heartbeat. But really, Seto. Are you guys fighting again?"

Seto chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"No. We're not fighting."

"Then why didn't you go to work today? Didn't you say this morning you needed to do payroll at KC today?"

"I did go to work. We… _argued_. But we didn't fight."

Mokuba appeared relieved, and Seto wondered how strong of a concern it was for his youngest brother.

"I'm glad. The last time he tried to take what Father was giving to you—"

Seto waved a hand, and Mokuba dropped the subject immediately.

"It's not like that. He is jealous, but he has his own things to be prideful about. He's just… he's irritating me. That's all."

"Oh. Well, he kind of has that effect on people sometimes."

Seto laughed. It was an understatement of understatements.

"So… we're definitely not moving?"

"I didn't say that. A little space between us might be nice."

"We'd stay in town but separate from Noa?"

"I'm just musing, kid."

"I guess… I'd miss him anyway. You would still see him at work, but I would hardly ever."

"What's your fascination with moving suddenly?" Seto asked, though realizing that he had brought up the topic.

It was Mokuba's turn to chew on his lip. "It's this place, you know?"

Seto crossed his arms and leaned into the counter. "We've lived here our entire lives."

"Yeah. That's half the problem."

"So, you're a little bored with it. What's the other half of the problem?"

"It's just filled with… you know… memories. Memories of _him_."

"And that bothers you?" Seto's concern grew. Mokuba and Gozaburo had never been that close. Did he miss his father that much? If the affection was there, Seto had never seen it.

"Memories of him… that don't really involve me."

Seto let out a puff of air.

"I get it. He never did pay much attention to you, did he?"

"I don't hold it against him. He was really serious about his work. You and Noa are too, and I think that's cool. It's just…"

"He was your father, too. But Noa was always his special gem. What can we do about it now?"

Mokuba half-shrugged, as if half the language he used was spoken by his shoulders. Though, if anyone could understand the boy's personal language, Seto did with fluency.

"At least I had you to pay attention to me when they were off at the shop." Seto could hear a smile in his voice, though his back was turned. "When we used to play CapMon together a lot more."

Seto stepped over to the table and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his little brother's shoulders.

"Two-way street kid. We needed each other to stay sane among those lunatics. I'd have lost it without you. I'd be… one of _them_."

Mokuba laughed, not seeming to care at all that Seto's chin bore down on top of his head. The boy wrapped his hands around Seto's overlapping arms.

"Welcome home, big brother."

"Thanks."


	10. Chapter 10

The following morning, Seto had shaken off the previous day's encounter with Noa well enough to return to Kaiba's Coats, but waited until after the other employees would already be in their seats. He didn't want a repeat of what happened when Noa got him alone.

His twin eyed him as he walked past but said nothing.

After hanging his coat, Seto collected the time cards from the holder on the wall, saying nothing to anybody as he passed. A quick glance around the packed and bustling workroom pointed out the flaw in his plan to come in late. He had nowhere to work on payroll, except the service counter in the center of the storefront. Reluctant though he was to do such work in view of the clients, Seto really had no choice.

His eyes drifted to the four new employees. As expected, Wheeler was stuck on hems until Noa—no, _Diamon_ , the real head tailor—deemed him worthy of more. Yugi worked vigorously on a set of sleeve buttons he had sewn on so tight that the fabric was puckering. But Seto didn't say a word. Quality control was not his department. That, he did leave up to Noa.

Rebecca sat at her desk, quietly focused on a suit coat—did Daimon have her taking apart a coat collar already? She leaned forward to ask another tailor questions about the process while she worked. Seto had never done the job himself, but knew which alterations required more skill than others. What did Noa have to complain about when she was increasing her abilities so quickly?

Then he passed Atem's desk, and what he saw stopped him. Atem pushed the fabric through his machine with a ferocity he'd only seen matched on his father's face. Noa could look determined, but Seto doubted he had it in him to be ferocious. The machine hammered out such a steady vibration he hadn't heard with consistency for quite some time.

Atem had been assigned a fairly mundane alteration on slacks, one Seto had seen done so many times he could probably manage it himself. But, it seemed, whatever this man was given to do, he was going to do it _well_.

Something about his ambition lit a fire inside Seto's chest he wasn't certain how to quench. He left the man's station feeling angry in a way he didn't understand. As he rounded the corner to exit the workroom, Seto glanced up at Atem again. The man's eyes drew across Seto's face as fiercely as his fingers drew across the fabric.

Seto returned the glare and walked out.

Once he had settled his papers across the counter and began to focus on the paperwork—the only part of owning a tailoring shop he truly enjoyed—the front bell rang and a man in a long coat stepped in. Seto silently cursed his luck of being in the front on the day _he_ decided to pay Kaiba's Coats a visit.

Maximillion Pegasus, the most obnoxiously flamboyant, yet obscenely generous man in Domino City Seto had ever known of. His long silver hair flowed past his shoulders. Seto had always assumed it must be a dye job—Pegasus was simply too young to take on that shade naturally.

"My goodness, it has been some time since I've stepped foot into this portal of luxury," the man said over his shoulder in a childish tone. Another man followed behind him like a shadow. Croquet, if Seto's memory served him. Seto had never learned the man's given name.

Seto didn't stop his calculations while the men browsed around the dainty storefront, but did occasionally glance up, each time making certain he caught Croquet's eye. Pegasus himself appeared too delighted in the wares to even notice Seto. When he finally made his rounds and approached the front desk, his surprise was evident.

"Why, hello, Young Kaiba! I don't often see you here. Helping your father, I see?"

Seto knew the subject of his father would come up, and still wasn't sure how to handle the subject when it did. Noa navigated these conversations with much more ease than himself.

"I apologize," Seto began, though his voice dripped with insincerity. He gestured to the pile of paper and time cards. "I would normally take care of this in back, but we have a full house today."

"Oh, how wonderful, Kaiba-boy!" he cheered, making Seto cringe at the almost-forgotten nickname the man had given him at their first encounter, when Seto was a young teenager. Pegasus seemed quite young then, himself. "A house full of hard working people is a thing to celebrate."

"Indeed," was all Seto was willing to offer on the subject. "How can we be of service today?"

"I would like to have a brief visit with your father, if you don't mind. Nothing against you, of course. But your father's eye for excellence cannot be matched, and I'm afraid my wardrobe is feeling a bit drab these days. Is he in?"

Seto glanced at the man's pale red suit and just stopped himself from snorting indignantly. Drab? Then he considered briefly the thought of placing a sign in the shop's window stating that the business is under new ownership, but thought better of it almost immediately. How many of the loyal locals would KC lose for an act like that?

"Excuse me? Kaiba-boy? Is your father in? If not, I suppose I can come back later."

Seto blinked, wondering how long he had been silent for, then drew in a breath.

"My apologies, Mister Pegasus. My father is no longer with us. Kaiba's Coats is recently under new ownership."

"Oh dear. Oh," he said, as if the weight of Seto's words was slowly sinking in. " _Dear_. What a shame. And how sudden! Was he ill?"

"There was an accident," Seto ground out.

Pegasus clicked his tongue. "Automobiles can be so harrowingly dangerous. That's precisely why I don't drive myself. But you cannot account for every vehicle on the—"

Seto stopped listening as Pegasus went on about the perils of traffic. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he did he saw his father. Twenty feet below him, limbs twisted in ways they shouldn't have been. The grass he lay on glittered with shards of glass.

Seto stood at the broken window peering down at his father—his father's _body_ , he registered slowly—with a hand on his jaw, feeling the red-hot pulse under his skin as his face began to swell.

When he opened his eyes again, Pegasus was staring at him. He resisted the urge to reach up and rub the sensation out of his jaw. He knew he was imagining it. He cleared his throat.

"I prefer not to speak about it, if you don't mind."

Pegasus's face fell in an expression of sorrow. Seto remembered dimly that the man was a widower. He suspected that his face displayed his own raw emotions with sincerity.

"Of course, of course. Oh, but with you two young men, now on your own!" Pegasus clicked his tongue. "How are you getting along?"

Seto nodded silently, forcing his mouth to turn up at the corners. He didn't feel particularly distraught in the moment regarding his father's death, but hadn't realized that talking about it to a man he had known distantly since somewhere in the middle of his childhood would make him feel so uncomfortable.

Who was this strange man in the red suit to ask how he was getting along? What right did he have to be so utterly invasive? Seto had second thoughts about the sign in the window. Perhaps new ownership would attract a fresh crowd, and repel the old loyal men who asked too many personal questions.

Seto pursed his lips and forced himself to glance down at the paperwork. He began to shuffle it and set some aside.

"I see. Well, might I be able to have a word with the new owner?"

Seto spread his arms wide in a gesture that indicated himself.

Pegasus raised his eyebrows in surprise.

" _You_?" he asked, then seemed to stumble over himself. "I don't mean that to insinuate that you wouldn't be a fine choice, Seto. I just supposed I had always foreseen your little brother running the show here when the time came."

Seto stuck out a thumb and pointed it over his shoulder. "He's here, and I'm going to wager that he's the one you'll want to see, if it's our father's 'eye' you're looking for. One moment." Seto spun on his heel.

He considered telling Pegasus to refrain from calling Noa the "little" brother directly, but decided to let it slide. Maybe if he could stick around long enough, he could catch a glimpse of Noa's face turning red. It might be the pick-me-up Seto needed to finally get the morning off on the right foot.

"Noa, you have a client," he said, poking his head into the back room, making a point not to name the man.

Without waiting for an answer, and without giving Pegasus any further acknowledgment, Seto returned to his bookkeeping. When the door creaked and Noa emerged from the work room a moment later, the sound of his footsteps ceased. Seto itched to peer over his shoulder, but he could practically feel the eyes boring into the back of his head.

It was all Seto could do to stifle his smirk.

"M-mister Pegasus, a pleasure," Noa said, stepping up to the desk beside Seto.

Behind the cover of the desk Noa ground his heel into Seto's toe, sporting a friendly smile the whole way through. Seto didn't allow himself to react other than to jerk his foot away as subtly as he could and purse his lips.

"How may we be of service to you?" Noa asked.

Pegasus donned a sorrowful expression, complete with a sweeping bow.

"I beg you accept my most sincere condolences on your loss, Masters Kaiba." The man spared the slightest glance in Seto's direction, but held his focus otherwise on Noa. "Gozaburo himself was a fine specimen of a man, and the loss of his talent and workmanship is one this world will struggle to bear."

Noa swallowed thickly. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, nodding every few seconds. When he looked up again, sorrow had settled in his eyes.

"Thank you, Mister Pegasus. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your words. My father may be gone, but I promise you that his ideals are not. I am setting out to ensure that the legend of the Kaiba name lives on."

Seto supposed that was what he should have said, but it simply hadn't occurred to him to make up such a lie on the spot. He supposed then, that coming from Noa the words might have been truth.

Seto swept up the remaining disorganized papers and time cards and arranged them in a pile. He spun around and headed to the back room without so much as a word or a glance. In the background he heard Pegasus whispering to Noa as if he'd already left the room.

"I'm sorry," Pegasus said in a low voice. "He seems more upset about this than I may have initially realized."

"Not to worry, sir. He'll be alright. What can we do for you today? Could a new suit be in order? I'll grab my measuring tape. Step up to the mirror, please."

Seto pushed the garment on Noa's desk aside, depositing his papers there. Before settling in to the empty chair, Seto plucked up the wrinkled garment, a pair of navy slacks with silver pinstripes. He crossed the workroom and dropped it directly into Atem's lap.

"Stop whatever you're doing and finish this," he said in tone as dark as his mood, and walked away.

"Sir, I— _Sir_."

"I've given you a job. Get it done. Seek assistance from your fellow tailors if you need it."

"I don't even know what alterations are being required."

Seto stared at him over his shoulder, blinking. " _Figure it out_."


	11. Chapter 11

Twenty minutes after Seto had seated himself, Noa poked into the back room. He whisked up to his desk where Seto sat and leaned in close, speaking so only Seto would hear.

"You could have told me who the client was. I would have prepared myself better. Do you realize how much money that man brings in?"

"I do, seeing as I conduct the bookkeeping. I thought it would be more amusing this way. I was really hoping he would refer to you as my _little_ brother to your face like he did when we were speaking."

Noa rolled his eyes and kicked at the wheels of Seto's chair, jostling him. Then he directed himself to Atem's desk. By the tone of Noa's voice, Seto knew he had put his cheery face on again for the other employees.

"You picked up my order? Thanks! It's a tough alteration."

"It's not so bad."

"Did Diamon walk you through it?" He picked up the pair of slacks, seeing the entire waistband detached, the old creases from the pleats on the front of the legs not yet pressed out.

"I examined your work on the first half and duplicated the measurements."

"Great. Looks good. I'll check it over later and make sure it matches the measurements we have on file." he said, patting Atem on the back. "In the meantime, can I have you in front? Grab a measuring tape."

Atem rose without a word and followed Noa to the front, grabbing a measuring tape off a hook on the wall.

Seto couldn't help but glare at the men as they passed by. Atem was quickly rising up the ladder, but had to have had some supernatural talent to be so capable at something he'd never done before.

The door swung closed but Seto could still vaguely hear the chatter from the other side. Noa spoke to Pegasus in his most professional tone, while giving instructions to Atem. Was he already being taught how to measure a client? Seto had been taught how to process the transactions with clients, but even Gozaburo hadn't trusted him to perform fittings.

Atem reentered the room, a friendly smile still gracing his lips. His measuring tape hung around his neck like a gold medal, hanging over his shoulders as if its presence indicated some sort of authority. He returned to his desk and went about his work.

Seto found busywork for himself, realizing once he'd finished payroll that there wasn't much left for him to do. He reorganized Gozaburo's filing system, took the occasional phone call whenever Noa was too busy—though his twin seemed bent on answering most of them when he could—and straightened the racks of thread spools until they ran in rainbow colors.

When five o'clock rolled around, the four veteran tailors continued working as if the clock had no power over them. Noa paused long enough to check on each of the new hires, offering suggestions and demands where needed, but dismissed each of them in turn. Seto agreed with the action. The four of them couldn't yet sew fast enough to be worth paying overtime rates. Though, to no surprise Seto noticed Atem moved the fastest.

He was also the last to hang up his garment and reset his station for the next day's work. Seto followed him out to the empty storefront.

"May I have a word with you?" Seto asked in a tone that insinuated a demand.

Atem paused, turning his face toward his employer, and allowed Seto to lead him to the far corner of the store. Noa wouldn't be able to overhear, and neither could Yugi, who sat against the edge of the cafe table outside, apparently waiting for his cousin.

"We ride together," Atem said as if he felt that Seto needed the fact explained to him.

"I'm not an idiot," Seto snapped.

Atem seemed to be able to detect that he meant more by the single statement. He cocked his head to one side, but didn't respond.

"Where have you worked before this shop?" he demanded.

"I don't know what you mean. I told you, I worked for my great uncle."

"Don't give me that crap. You've got to have prior tailoring experience. I've seen you in the shop. You're no novice."

Atem chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment, and I appreciate the level of attention you're paying me. But I haven't done this before."

"Nobody is that quick a study. You can't possibly have that damn much natural talent."

Atem stared at Seto for a moment, silently.

"I'm not sure how to answer that. I—"

Seto stepped in close enough that he could smell the rich cologne wafting from the other man. Atem still opted to wear leather pants that accentuated how slim his frame was. Today he wore a black dress shirt, but kept it unbuttoned all day, showing off the low-cut muscle shirt beneath. Seto found his eyes drifting to his chest before he could control his gaze.

Atem took notice. Seto didn't back away.

"I have contacts in this field," Seto said in a low voice. "If I find out you've worked for one of my competitors, or you have reason to hide your work experience, you'll find yourself out on your ass before you know what hit you."

Atem peered up at Seto's face, when he seemed to notice how close they stood. Atem stepped back and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry you're having a difficult time believing my work history. I don't know what to say for myself, other than that I've tried to do my best for the opportunity you've been generous enough to give me. I was, well…"

"Say what's on your mind or don't bother opening your mouth. I have no time or patience for those incapable of saying what they mean."

"My apologies," Atem said, taking a breath. "I was hoping you and I could form a relationship. We could be good for each other."

Seto took another step away. _A relationship?_ What could he possibly mean by that?

Atem eyes widened, but the shock of what he'd said didn't appear to strike him as hard as it certainly had struck Seto. Atem pursed his lips, showing a little smile before his head dropped and he became momentarily interested in his own feet.

"I didn't mean that how it came out. I realize you're my employer. I only thought—"

"I _am_ your employer. And as such, _that_ is the only relationship we need to have. You do the work given to you, and I will pay you for it. At the end of the day, you go home. What part of this has you confused?"

Atem stepped forward again, a frown settling across his face.

"I am not confused by any of this. I'm afraid my phrasing may have thrown you off track, but that was not intentional. I only meant that we ourselves have something in common."

"What, exactly, do you and I have in common?"

"We're outsiders in a tailor's world."

"This is _not_ a tailor's world. This is a businessman's world, and in it I am not an outsider." He wasn't certain what he would amount to _yet_ , but he surely wasn't a novice.

"Not out _there_ ," Atem gestured to the outside world, then waved his hand at the closed workshop door. "I mean in there. You and I are the only ones in the whole group of men and women who haven't experienced this world very deeply yet. And if we cannot find a basis to relate to one another as human beings as we go about our days, what point is there?"

Seto's expression morphed into a sneer as his voice began to raise.

"What _point_ is there? The point is to earn a living! There doesn't need to be a point further than that. If you need some higher level of fulfillment in your life, it's your business to find that elsewhere. Don't put that responsibility on me."

"Seto, you must have your heart in your job for more than just the money—even if the tailoring isn't what you love about your job."

Seto put another step of distance between them and crossed his arms over his chest. "I did not give you permission to use my name as you please."

"My apologies if I have offended you. I believe that "Sir" alone simply doesn't suit you."

Seto narrowed his eyes, but didn't address the comment. "In making a living, a man moves up in the world. My ambition isn't about the number of digits in my bank account. It's about building a reputation I can be prideful of. Making a name for myself. Why do you think I would have stayed on with Kaiba's Coats when my father died? It certainly isn't to please my brother, and if I thought I could get wealthy owning a tailoring shop, I would be kidding myself."

"I suppose, if you let this business sink your father's name will count for very little. Seeing that the name also belongs to you…"

"Exactly. Once KC stabilizes and no longer needs my management, I can move on to bigger things. _That_ is the point for me. You can bet that when that day comes I will not look back with sorrow at all the relationships I'll be leaving. In fact, I'll be quite glad I won't have to see my irksome sibling so often. You and I, Atem, clearly have very different goals in our lives. I suggest we both seek out our intentions elsewhere."

Atem nodded, turned toward the door.

"We'll see about that when the time comes, Kaiba," he said, and walked out.

As the ringing of the door chime silenced into the ringing of Seto's ears, he realized that the name Kaiba on its own, despite feeling crude and impersonal, had a certain charm to it.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's been reading! I appreciate you guys so much.

I have a lot of content mostly prepared for this story already, so I'll be posting much faster. I'm aiming for two-three posts a week, Wednesdays and Sundays for sure. Fridays like today, are a possibility. Next update, we'll be visiting a familiar setting.

-omgagr


	12. Chapter 12

"There it is!" Mokuba exclaimed from the passenger seat. He pressed his face into the window.

"I still don't see it," Seto said, but his focus was on the traffic, and the inside of his vehicle.

He wasn't used to driving Noa's Civic, but his own, less glamorous sedan—the car his father had bought like-new over twenty years ago, was out of commission.

"Two blocks down, on the right. It says "Game" on the front."

Seto parked on the street in front of the shop and stared at the building.

"It's a turtle."

"Turtle Games," Mokuba said, nodding.

"An actual, literal _turtle_. What the hell kind of architecture is that?"

"Can we just go inside, please?"

Seto stepped out of the car and followed Mokuba onto the sidewalk.

"Did the owner believe he would get a return on remodeling investments by the advertising this would attract?" he asked, not able to take his eyes off the enormous turtle perched above the "Game" sign.

Mokuba rolled his eyes and entered the game shop, Seto following behind a moment later.

A musty basement smell assaulted Seto the moment he walked through the door. The shop's walls were lined with figurines and game tokens packaged in small bags. Four square tables sat equidistant from one another, each piled with board games.

To one side sat a book shelf of more board games and thick books. A lighted glass display case ran around the border of the shop, filled mostly with trading cards for a game Seto was mildly familiar with.

An old man in green overalls sat with a magazine at the front counter, but he slapped it down on the glass top when Mokuba walked in.

"Well hello there, Mokuba! How are you doing today?"

"I'm fine, Mister Muto," he said, immediately gravitating toward a display of CapMon figures. He began his usual ritual of paging through the catalog chained to a hook to see if a new set of creatures was in production. "Ooh, they have new fiends out next month! I'm getting them."

Seto lumbered behind, examining various displays with mild interest. But after checking the price on a package of colored dice for a game he'd never heard of, he scoffed and returned the bag to its hook. He leaned in over Mokuba's shoulder and whispered low.

"Maybe I should go into the gaming business. Apparently this is where the money is. Do you realize how much they're charging for chunks of molded plastic?"

"I do," he whispered back. "And you should get into gaming. I'd buy wares from you."

"What are you two mumbling about over there?" the old man asked, peering up from his magazine. "Do you need help with something?"

"Just chatter," Mokuba answered. "We're fine."

"I see. Let me know if you need anything. Oh, and Mokuba! I just remembered, I received a new shipment this afternoon that you might be interested in."

The old man peeled himself off of his stool and made his way through a door behind him. He rummaged around a bit, Mokuba seeming to lose interest after hearing the sound of another set of boxes sliding around.

Seto sensed his disinterest and glanced around the rest of the shop.

"Show me what kind of games you play. Aside from CapMon."

"Ah…" Mokuba floundered. "I'm trying to think of where to start." Then he seemed to zone out, his gaze focusing on a poster behind the counter.

The poster featured a scantily clad cartoon woman, holding some sort of ornate staff in one hand and with the other she appeared to reach right out of the page.

"Magic and Wizards tournament," Mokuba read aloud. "That's a month from now."

"What is Magic and Wizards?"

"That's the game CapMon was based off of."

"Do you play?"

"I like to, but I don't have my own deck of cards."

"How do you play without a deck?"

"Well, I have some cards. They come with the CapMon pieces. But I don't have enough—a tournament legal deck needs forty cards, and a side deck is a good plus."

"I would guess you need more of a balance, as well?" Seto didn't know much about the game, but he had seen the cards Mokuba brought home with his CapMon pieces. Having only assault cards didn't seem like a good way to win a game.

"Exactly. So, Mister Muto rents me a deck when I play here. It doesn't cost much, but I have to give all the cards back after three games, or pay again. Kind of like bowling."

Mister Muto popped out from the back room. "Excuse me for a moment, will you?"

He walked around to a set of stairs and shouted.

"Yugi! Come down stairs please!"

Seto furrowed his brows.

"Oh, Yugi's home?" Mokuba asked, a hint of glee in his voice.

"He lives here?" Seto asked quietly. _Who lives above a game shop_? Seto wondered.

"Oh, yes," the old man answered. "My family shares an apartment upstairs. You know my grandson?"

"I do," Seto said, but didn't elaborate.

The sound of light footsteps descended the staircase, and Yugi's bright crimson hair flashed from around the corner.

"What's up, Grandpa?"

"Yugi, I need your help moving a few boxes. Is Atem up there, too?"

Yugi glanced up the staircase and waved a hand. "He'll be right down."

"They _both_ live here?" he asked under his breath so only Mokuba would hear.

"No," Mokuba answered. "I think he moved out a while ago. He has his own apartment. But he visits often, from what I can tell."

"Mister Kaiba!" Yugi said suddenly, looking startled.

Atem bumped into Yugi from behind, then backed off, looking irritated. Yugi apologized, and Atem gave a slight dip of his head and gestured to move forward. Then his gaze drifted to Seto.

"Hello, sir."

Seto gave a single nod to both the cousins as they passed behind the counter. He'd never seen them so comfortable around each other while at the shop, as if they really were living together. Perhaps Atem was capable of behaving more professionally at Kaiba's Coats than Seto had given him credit for.

"Mokuba," Atem smirked. "Here for more CapMon pieces?"

"Of course. You can't keep smoking me forever, Atem. I _will_ catch up to you."

"We'll see, little one."

The old man stood behind Yugi and Atem with a hand on each of their shoulders.

"How is it that you young men know each other?" he asked, glancing between each of them and Seto.

Mokuba took a step closer to the counter so Seto was behind him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mokuba said. "I didn't introduce you to my brother. This is Seto Kaiba. He owns Kaiba's Coats."

Something about the introduction dug under Seto's skin. He didn't like being associated with the business, even if it was successful in its circles. But he couldn't pinpoint the reason.

"Ah, so my boys work under you," he said with a pleasant grin, slapping each of their backs. He nodded to Mokuba. "And it's good to see our young gamers involving family in their favorite hobbies."

"What did you need our assistance with, Uncle?" Atem asked.

"Oh, I wanted to let our Mokuba know about the new wares that arrived today. You two know the box. I'm afraid it's a bit out of my reach. Once you can get to it, bring out a sample, will you?" He turned to Seto and grinned. "We're loaded down with new items. Everything arrived today."

"On it," Yugi said. He and Atem disappeared into the back room.

Seto heard more boxes shuffling around, then the sound of an object running along the tape.

"What else can I find for you in the mean time, Mokuba?"

"Oh. I'm here for the latest set of CapMon pieces that I didn't get to pre-order. And I need a new game board. The one I use at home is falling apart."

"Ah, a sign of a well-loved game! I like your style, young Kaiba!"

The man spun around and gathered the items from behind the counter. Yugi and Atem returned a moment later. Yugi held out a small box of thin cardboard, setting it on the counter.

Mokuba picked up the box. It was bigger than his hand.

"A booster set? This is cool. What's in here?" he asked, scanning a list on the back.

"In this box," Atem explained, "you'll have a standard set of cards every duelist should have in their deck. On top of those, you'll receive one third of the cards in the second list, randomly."

"Sure. If Industrial Illusions started mass-producing pre-made decks, the duels would be no fun to watch."

"Of course," Mister Muto said. "And I'm certain you can fill in the rest with your own cards. If you're still missing anything you want, you're welcome to fill in from our collection."

"Oh. But, Mister Muto, I don't really play Magic & Wizards."

The man's eyes seemed to twinkle. "Based on what I've seen, boy, that's hardly the truth."

"Okay, but I'm not sure I'm planning on getting that invested."

Atem leaned over the counter on his elbows. "Don't tell me you didn't see our poster."

"For the tournament? I did."

"It's officially sponsored by the creators," Mister Muto said. "We're not hosting it here."

"You're not?"

Mokuba leaned in to see the small print on the poster. "Next month… New York? Wow. No, I can't. I mean, it sounds cool and everything, but I'm not even that good."

"You almost beat me," Mister Muto said cheerfully, not a hint of bitterness in his voice. "I would say you play splendidly. You just need more of your own cards."

"A trading card game tournament is giving away _that_ much money in prizes?" Seto asked.

"Where? Oh, I see… first prize. One hundred thousand dollars? No way!"

"Maybe you should have been practicing Magic and Wizards instead of Capsule Monsters," Seto said. He nudged Mokuba's shoulder. "Come on. Didn't you come here to buy something?"

"Hold on, Seto. Mister Muto, why would they give away such a big prize?"

The old man cleared his throat. "Maximillion Pegasus is not only a generous man, but I believe he's looking to spread his game further. New York City holds the—"

"Hold on," Seto broke in. "Did you say Max Pegasus is the game creator?"

"Indeed. You know of him?"

"He's local. A customer of mine. He only comes in every now and then, but my business makes those absurd suits he wears."

"You're kidding!" Yugi exclaimed. "I didn't know that!"

"He was just in last week, in fact. We're making a new design for him."

"I believe I saw Daimon working on a pattern for something the man might wear," Atem said. "Do you gather he wants it for the tournament?"

Seto had never seen the date Noa had given him, but he had seen the tailors complete such a full order in under a month before. It wasn't out of the question.

"Woah," Mokuba said. "Talk about grand advertising. Hey, I bet if we go there and ask him, he'll announce who his tailor is on television."

"Quite possibly, my boy. Are you beginning to change your mind about going?"

"Seto, we _should_ go. You could get your advertising, and… ooh. That prize money. Wow. It would be nice to make a little bit of profit on these games, don't you think?"

"We'll talk about it at home," Seto said mechanically. "Pay for your things. I have other errands today."

"Oh. Well, okay. I'll take the board and CapMon pieces. Then, I was going to put the new set of game pieces on pre-order, but…" Mokuba's eyes drifted to the box of trading cards on the counter. "Do I have enough credits for the board, the pieces, and the booster?"

"You'll owe… thirty-two dollars and fifty seven cents."

Mokuba cringed. He shook his head and pushed the box of cards further on the counter.

"Maybe next time. I'm kind of rocking CapMon right now. Best not to spread myself too thin, you know?"

Seto reached in his coat and pulled a bill from the money clip in his pocket. He dropped a fifty onto the counter.

"Here. Just get it." He looked up at Mister Muto. "Put the rest toward Mokuba's credits."

"Wai—Seto, really?"

"Grab your things. We need to go."

"Thank you, Mister Kaiba," the man said, punching keys on his cash register. "Mokuba, you won't be sorry. Any questions on game mechanics, stop by and let me know." He scooped Mokuba's new possessions into a bag.

"Will do. Thank you, Mister Muto. Yugi, Atem," Mokuba nodded and waved, grabbing the bag. By the time he turned around, he had to chase Seto out the door.


	13. Chapter 13

"Why did you want to leave so suddenly? You didn't tell me you had other errands today," Mokuba asked, buckling his seat belt.

"Sorry. But seeing my employees out of context threw me off. Yugi's usually quiet, but—"

"Yugi, _quiet_? Maybe one-on-one, but not when he's winning a game. Which is, like, almost always."

"I don't want to stand around in idle chit-chat with them. Atem isn't usually so goading, either. I didn't like the way he was taunting you."

"We're gamers. He wasn't looking at me as his boss's little brother. He was looking at me like an opponent. Of course he was taunting me. We have our own relationship, outside of you, you know. You could always have waited in the car."

"Why? So I could look unsociable?"

"Oh, being unsociable is okay, but looking like it isn't?"

"They're my employees, Mokuba. We have boundaries."

"That doesn't mean you can't have any fun. They're great people. We get along really well. Even if they always beat me."

Seto didn't answer, and Mokuba began to rummage through his bag as the car navigated through traffic.

"You don't think the Muto's are intending to go to that tournament, do you?" Seto asked.

"Yeah, probably. You know, if they could get the time off of work."

"For a card game? Not likely."

"But they're _really_ good, Seto. I think they could win it."

"Then why are you so interested in the prize money?"

"Oh, that. Um, never mind. I won't be able to win it anyway, even if you would let me go to New York."

"That's not what I asked. Why did that amount interest you in the first place?"

Mokuba sighed and returned his games to the bag.

"We don't ever really talk about what I'd like to do after high school, do we?"

"I always expected you might want to come work for me," Seto said, taking a moment to glance over at him.

" _Please_. Don't even joke about that. I couldn't even pretend to be interested in _sewing_."

"I'm not joking. But I'm not talking about KC, either. I don't want to own it any longer than I have to. I was thinking that maybe for my next venture, after I finish my degree, I would go into something we would both be interested in."

"Oh. What did you have in mind?"

"I was actually thinking of something game related. But not quite what we saw today."

"Like?"

"I might like to build a software company."

"Gaming software? Like… computer games? Seto, that would be awesome! I would _definitely_ come help you build a video game company."

Seto flashed a smile, glancing over at Mokuba. "Glad to know I have your support."

"That makes sense, you know? You've always been so good at building electronics." He slapped Seto's arm with the back of his hand as if he'd just remembered a thought. "You even made the laptop we use!"

"I put it together out of a kit," Seto corrected. "I needed something for my schoolwork, and it was cheaper that way."

"Yeah, but, you saw the kit, and you, like, _knew_ you could make it. Right off the bat. Do you know how much research most people would have to do just to figure out if they want to try something that big for the first time? You just dove right in. Dude, what are you even _doing_ in the sewing industry? It's all wrong for you."

Seto laughed. "I like your enthusiasm."

"We'll leave KC to Noa, and go out on our own venture together. I've got your back, bro."

A grin lingered on Seto's lips.

"But you never did tell me what you had planned for yourself after school. I'm not trying to hijack your ambitions."

"No, that's cool. This all kind of lines up. I was thinking, maybe I could use that kind of money to pay for most of my schooling."

Seto glanced over. His smile faded into a thoughtful frown.

" _Most_ of your schooling? What do you want to go to school for? Wait. More specifically, what kind of degree do you want that one hundred _thousand_ dollars isn't going to cover?"

Mokuba's fingers fidgeted with the crumpled handles of his plastic bag.

"I'm not all that great at school right now, you know?"

"I know. That's what has me even more surprised. Your favorite class is the one where you get to stare at your hot gym teacher."

"I kind of gave up on college."

"Gave up on college? What do you mean?"

"Noa didn't go."

"Noa's where he wants to be. You don't want to get caught up in that kind of dead-end business, do you?"

"No. But what I want to do… well, it's expensive."

"Medical school? Law school?"

Mokuba laughed. "That's cute. Not even close." He lost his grin and sobered, taking a breath. "Art school. I've looked into the programs, and the one I want is a hundred and twenty thousand dollars."

Seto whistled. "I wish I had the kind of credit that could help you get that kind of loan, kid. But my record isn't long enough. I wouldn't be able to co-sign."

"I wasn't expecting you to help. I know we've never really been swimming in cash. My grades have never been good enough to qualify for many scholarships, either. I really shot myself in the foot with that before I knew what I wanted. That could have been my ticket in. Now I don't really have a plan."

"You should go to that tournament," Seto said suddenly. "I can help you train, if you don't think you can beat the Muto's yet."

"Seto, I can't. You'd have to come with me, so you'd have to leave work, and the trip would be expensive… I just can't."

"But you said this is what you want. Take the chance. It's not like winning the lottery, Mokuba. You have to put in effort. But that means you have a level of control in your chances of winning."

"You would… you would really let me go? What if I don't end up winning?"

"Then you've spent a few extra dollars on trading cards. Let me worry about the traveling costs. What's going to hurt more? A few hundred dollars used up now, or missing a chance you could have taken to dream big?"

Mokuba fell silent, staring down at the cards in his hands.

"You'll really help me?"

"You've played the game before, right?"

"Plenty of times."

"So you know what you're doing. Teach me the rules and I'll be your practice partner."

Mokuba gave a chuckle. "You're good at everything you set out to do. That whole "natural aptitude" thing really works for you. I think you could catch on really quick. I would really appreciate the help."

"Just promise me one thing, little brother."

"Yeah?"

"If I help you win you have to apply yourself better in school. That means in high school and in college."

Mokuba gave a determined nod. "I promise."

"One of us Kaiba's has got to make something of himself in this lifetime."

* * *

A/N: It felt strange last chapter to invite Seto Kaiba into a game shop where he hardly knows about any of the games. I never thought I'd write a version of Kaiba who's never dueled. Really, I kind of had fun with it.

Oh, and for anyone who may not know, Magic and Wizards is what Duel Monsters was originally called, but it's the same exact game. Minus the holograms, of course.


	14. Chapter 14

Seto stopped beside Yugi's desk, holding a clipboard in one hand, tapping it with a pen in the other. He watched a few minutes while Yugi worked.

Yugi glanced up, gave a polite half-smile, and began feeding the leg of a pair of slacks through his machine. When he had sewn a full line, he glanced up at Seto again.

"May I help you, Sir?" he asked timidly.

"What time this morning did you begin this alteration?"

Yugi glanced at the clock. "Thirty minutes ago?"

Seto scribbled something down.

"Fine. I would like to see you out front." He let the clipboard fall at his side and walked out, hearing Yugi click his machine off and follow.

The front room was void of clients. Seto leaned against the counter, forcing Yugi to stand in the middle of the shop. With nothing to do with his hands, Yugi's sudden fidgeting became obvious.

"Did I do something wrong?" Yugi asked, a tremor in his voice.

"Did you?" Seto asked, his brows raised.

"Um… I—I don't think so. But if… maybe one of my orders wasn't right?"

"Someone would have brought it to your attention by now," he said.

Yugi's tense shoulders dropped a fraction, though Seto was amused to see him squirm.

"You're not in trouble. This is just an evaluation. You've been with Kaiba's Coats a full month now. Now that you seem to know what you're doing to some degree, I'll be keeping close tabs on your speed. For what it costs to run this place, I need all of my workers to keep to a certain time-output ratio to be worth what I pay. To be frank, if you can't match the minimum output requirement, you will be let go."

"O—okay. I'll try my best."

Seto almost felt pity for the man. If Noa were in the conversation, he might have told Yugi not to worry, that he had to say that to everybody. But Seto refused to be lenient. His tailors wouldn't learn to work well under stress by being coddled.

"I expect the best from you at all times, Yugi," he said instead.

Yugi nodded, staring mostly at the floor, but flickering occasional glances up to the middle of Seto's chest. He didn't seem to be able to reach Seto's face with his nervous glances.

"One more thing."

"Y-yes, Sir?"

"Did you do a lot of customer service at your grandfather's shop?"

"Actually, most of my help involved stocking and unpacking boxes."

"I see. I would eventually like to put you out front, to help with clients and fittings. Depending on your involvement with the clients, this may even involve higher compensation."

Yugi nodded his head, able now to meet Seto's eyes, but only for short bursts before he returned to peering around the room.

"But to do that, Yugi, you have to lose the stutter. My clients are high-class professional men and women, around whom I will not tolerate your nervous tics. If you aren't able, or at least willing to try, you will not be offered this opportunity again."

Yugi's eyes found Seto's face again. He swallowed and pursed his lips. He nodded, and Seto dismissed him without a word. But as Yugi passed him on his way to the workroom, Seto thought he caught a glimpse of something stoic in his eyes.

* * *

Seto repeated the process for Rebecca, having nothing spectacular to say to her. The girl progressed as he had hoped, but she still had a lot of learning to do.

But when he called Joseph out, Seto decided almost immediately that his unprofessional qualities and odious personal habits, far more prominent than Yugi's stutter, would keep him from offering the same opportunity he had to Yugi and Rebecca.

Seto once again made his employee stand awkwardly while he leaned against the counter, but the stance didn't seem to bother Joseph. He crossed his arms, legs spread solidly, and nodded to Seto.

"What's up, Boss-man?"

Seto narrowed his eyes.

"Do you believe that's acceptable speech to use toward the man who signs your paychecks?"

Joseph gave a shrug.

Two paychecks in and Seto hadn't seen any change in wardrobe like he'd hoped.

"I've given you a real chance to clean up your life, Wheeler. I hope you're taking it seriously."

"'Course I am."

"Where are the button-up shirts and pressed slacks I told you to wear? I should be requiring jackets as well, but I realize I can't ask for too much from _you_."

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"Clearly you aren't accustomed to money, Mister Wheeler. Not that it's any of my business what you do with your paycheck, but I expected that by now you might have invested in a business wardrobe."

"I got some shirts."

"Where are they?"

"Haven't had the time to wash 'em yet. Is any of this really that impor—"

"KC's dress code was not a _suggestion_ , Mister Wheeler. I expect you to show up tomorrow, dressed appropriately. If you can't do that, don't bother showing up. Even bag boys at the grocery store can manage to wear a clean white shirt and tie. I need no reassurance in knowing that I'm not asking too much."

"That all you wanted to say?"

"No. You really need to clean yourself up. That means not only your attire, but your scattered work station, your time efficiency, and your use of proper English."

Joseph was quiet a moment. Then he gave another nod.

"'Kay. What else."

"What _else_?" he asked, taken aback. "Are those matters so trivial to you that you feel you can just brush them off?"

"Nah, man. Boss. _Sir_. But I'd rather get smacked hard once than a hundred slaps on the wrist. I gotta know what else you want from me."

It was Seto's turn to remain silent.

"Lay on it me. I'm not a wimp. I can take it."

"No. I've addressed my concerns already. What you should be doing, instead of waiting for me to slap your wrist, is watching the other employees around you, especially the ones who've been here much longer than you. Do what they're doing. Avoid practices they avoid. Do this, and I won't have to drag you out here again. Your discipline shouldn't ever have to reach my level of authority."

"Got it, Sir. I'm your man."

Seto found himself irritated with his own surprise.

"Good to hear. Then get back to work."

Joseph grinned and spun around, pushing his way through the workroom door.

Seto knew his next move should be to bring out Atem, but he found himself feeling reluctant. He checked over the clipboard in his hands, trying to evaluate who was the biggest value, and who really needed speed improvement.

He finally steeled himself to take Atem out to the front with him, and when he poked his head inside the room, Joseph was leaning over Atem's desk.

Atem appeared to be walking Joseph through an alteration, or giving him some kind of tip. But all Seto could see was their bodies huddled over the desk together, faces only inches apart. Atem's slender fingers wielded a seam ripper he used as a pointer. Each time he used it, his crimson eyes chased up to Joseph's face.

Seto couldn't place the reason, but the scene made his blood boil.


	15. Chapter 15

Shortly after Miss Hopkin's evaluation, the young woman clocked out.

"I'm sorry I have to leave, Sir," she said.

 _As am I_ , he thought, but didn't speak the sentiment out loud.

"I would be glad to have you working more hours, were I allowed to request them from you."

He nodded his farewell as she passed by. He remained hunched over the front desk, pouring over his clipboard.

Each order that had been completed was initialed by the sewer who had done the work. Seto made a chart for himself, categorizing each employee by their output speed.

Daimon came out on top. Cicero, the nearly silent Italian man came out next, Noa below him. Seto knew his brother was a perfectionist. The infliction slowed him down a little, but that didn't bother Seto. Noa's work came back to be resewn or adjusted as seldom as Daimon's. They were certainly his top workers.

But once he began to calculate the output of the three new hires he had already begun to evaluate, Seto noticed the deficit they created. Most of them couldn't yet—even after a _month—_ sew fast enough to get out the amount of work to be worth the cost of running the shop for a day.

Once he divided the cost of insurance from a monthly charge to a daily charge, added on eight to ten hours of payroll, plus overtime rates for the veterans, for each employee working on a given day, and the remainder of his other operating costs…

…He was paying his new employees to _lose_ him money.

Taking the mean of Yugi's, Joseph's and Rebecca's contributions, Seto could see they weren't helping him turn a profit. They were costing more money than they helped bring in.

He stepped back from his paperwork to take a breath and adjust his stiff neck. It occurred to Seto then that Rebecca's leaving meant he had a free station to work on that didn't make him the center of clients' attention if any were to walk in. Seto appreciated the front shop's usual quiet, but knew it could break any second.

He settled in to Rebecca's machine, after moving a pair of scissors and a tomato-shaped pincushion out of the way. He'd been sitting for less than a minute when Noa came over and whispered in his ear.

"Is there a reason," Noa asked, "that you skipped Atem's evaluation? You gave each of the other new hires one."

"It wasn't good timing," Seto said. He was quickly burying himself in order receipts and billing statements. The response wasn't a lie at all, but he would never expect Noa to understand what he meant by it. He didn't elaborate. "I'll get to it when I get another chance."

"Get to it soon. Otherwise it looks like favoritism. Or exclusion. You have to give them all the same chance to succeed here."

 _Suc_ _c_ _eed?_ Seto scoffed. They were the only ones coming out on top, making a profit for themselves and putting out minimal amounts of effort.

Seto leaned away from his brother, signaling that their secret conversation was over. "Lay off it, Noa. It's not your problem."

"But it's yours?" Noa whispered again, refusing to be pushed away. The hum of the industrial machines removed any concern of being overheard. "What part about giving a simple eval is a problem to you?" Noa let the question sit before continuing. "I'd be happy to give him one if you won't."

The fact that Seto was considering his twin's offer had Seto on his feet. He _couldn't_ consider the offer. The job was Seto's to do, and he had to get it done.

But there he was again, behind Seto's back, leaning over Joseph's desk this time. His arm was draped entirely over the blond's shoulder. _How is that appropriate contact in a business setting?_ he wondered. He shook his head, then scraped the clipboard off his desk and sauntered to Joseph's desk.

"Don't you two look cozy?" he asked, his tone laced with disgust.

The two men glanced up.

"Sir?" Atem questioned.

"I hope you're actually attempting to get some work done."

Atem nodded. "Joey asked me to show him how to taper legs on the slacks I've been working on."

"While I recognized the need for Mister Wheeler to improve his knowledge base, there's a time, and a _method_ for giving instruction. Muto, I didn't ask you to spend your time teaching. Leave that to an individual who's proven he can work fast enough to afford the time."

Atem stood straight. He was more than a foot shorter than Seto, but the lack of height didn't seem to stunt his confidence.

"Are you suggesting that I cannot?"

"I need a word with you out front."

Atem gave a huff and followed his employer out the door.

"And you think pulling us each off of our machines is going to help us get our work done?"

"Please. You weren't working anyway."

"I was helping your other—"

"Do not talk back to me," Seto said, letting himself sound every bit as irritated as he felt. Why did the younger crowd seem to feel so self-entitled that they didn't need to listen to him? At least the older four respected him as a Kaiba. "I hired you to sew, not to teach. How long have you been working on the same order today?"

"I'm not sure. What time is it now?" He peered around Seto's arm to glance at his wrist, but Seto dropped his arm to his side.

"What time was it when you stopped working to do the job of someone more qualified?"

"Kaiba. You've seen what I can do, and how fast I can work. I picked up Noa's job, at your request, and taught myself how to remove front pleats from a pair of slacks. Cicero told me I completed my half of the job in twice the time it takes him to do the whole thing. That means my first attempt was already the same speed as one of your precious veterans."

"Noa told me all about that. I admit I found myself impressed. Perhaps even a little pleased. But the tone you're using to brag about your progress, as if you can use that as an excuse to defy my direct instructions, has me questioning your ability to work under me."

Seto knew he may have imagined the reaction, but he thought he saw Atem's brow raise the slightest degree. He wasn't sure if it was a sign that he had accepted the challenge presented, or if it had more to do with Seto's word choice.

A sudden image of Seto's literal wording flashed in his mind—Atem, working _beneath_ him—and he had to force it away before he found himself distracted.

"Are you threatening to fire me, Kaiba?"

"I'm not threatening you at all. I'm giving you a warning. You're new here. Yes, you've made a lot of progress. But I'm _warning_ you to tread carefully. I told you during your interview that this attitude wouldn't fly with me."

"And what does this warning amount to? What is it I ought to fear from you?"

But Seto knew he couldn't lose a worker, especially one worth his salt, even if Seto was trying to spin it another way. He needed all the help he could get. If the pattern continued for much longer, the business would start to go under.

"The point of this evaluation, which I have given to each of your new co-workers, is to work on a plan of advancement. You wanted this opportunity? You have to earn it. Speed may be what I'm encouraging with the others, but working quickly will not be your ticket in."

"You haven't answered my question."

Simply put, Seto couldn't afford to fire him. He couldn't afford to risk pushing him toward quitting, either. Seto startled himself to realize that he _needed_ Atem in his workroom. Deny it as he may, Seto knew he was using a threat tactic to scare Atem into working passively.

Like Gozaburo had wanted _him_ to. Seto knew he couldn't tolerate being told what to do any more than he could expect Atem to put up with it. He didn't have much else to work with, so he took on the tactic full-force.

"If you don't want to stagnate here, your only option is to move forward."

"Meaning?"

"You're doing well in the workroom. You've mastered the basics, and speed and precision are your strengths. You're working on comprehension, which will come with time, but you're coming along at an alarming rate. What will you do when you've learned all of the alterations we do here? When you've built the coats from scratch and construction isn't exciting anymore? At your rate, you're going to get to that point much sooner than anyone else at your level."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting a way to keep your job interesting at the higher skill levels. I'm sure the monotony is fine for men like Diamon and my brother. Even my father had a tolerance for routine, one that I, and I believe you, lack. If you have the passion for this place, you could run it if you wanted to. I certainly don't want the job any longer than I need to hold it."

Atem was silent, appearing contemplative.

"You began this dialogue sounding like you wanted to fire me. Now you want me to take over your business?"

"I already said I don't want it. I never wanted this. I'm here out of necessity only, but I do know a few things that qualify me for the position."

"I don't do anything half-way."

Seto didn't understand what he meant with the comment.

"If you ever want those opportunities of advancement in the future, including the possibility of getting you out here for fittings as soon as this month, you have to tone down the arrogance and let me lead."

Atem appeared troubled at Seto's words. But eventually, he nodded.

"I am interested. I will do my best to not disappoint."

If Atem followed through, Seto would make certain he was too busy to spend time tutoring. But even he didn't allow himself to think about why Atem teaching Joseph bothered him so much. He had to admit it could benefit the shop as a whole. Still, something that felt like relief washed over Seto. He didn't allow it to show on his face.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: I apologize for the lateness of the last two updates. I'm trying to stick to a schedule but sometimes things come up. This time it was another chapter that inserted itself into my brain and I needed some extra time to work it out. But I was having trouble finding a good place for a couple of chapter breaks, so this one ended up being short. To make up for that, I still intend to post on Wednesday as usual, and should go back to a more regular schedule from there. Thank you for your patience and even more for your continued support!

~omgagr

* * *

The front bell rang while Seto was counting down the cash drawer for the day, occupying Rebecca's desk again. The heavy business hours were over with, though the shop was still twenty minutes from closing.

Noa rose from his seat, and Seto marked down his place in counting bills in case his box were to be thrown off with another order pick-up. But Noa returned to the workroom quickly, nodding toward Seto.

"You have a visitor," Noa said. He waved someone in from the doorway.

Seto glanced up to see his favorite mop of hair hiding it's owner's face. Seto felt a grin sliding onto his own.

"Little brother. How did you get here?"

"I took the bus." Mokuba slowly stepped into the workroom, peering around in wonder. "Wow… I haven't been in here in ages. Hello, Daimon."

The old man inclined his head, but didn't speak.

"Hello, Mokuba," Yugi and Atem said in unison.

"Oh, hey you guys," he said with a hint of laughter. "I keep forgetting you work with my brothers."

"This is your little bro?" Joseph asked. He flashed a grin, and Mokuba waved back.

"What are you doing here?" Seto asked, concern lacing his voice. But he didn't need to ask Mokuba if everything was alright. He trusted the boy to tell him if something was wrong.

"I don't mean to be an interruption. Actually, I came to ask the two of you a question." He glanced between Seto and Noa, while leaning back on the door frame.

"Shoot," Seto said, pushing the cash drawer away completely, giving Mokuba his full attention.

"Would it be, like, I don't know, a conflict of interest if I asked you to make me a suit? Or even just a jacket, maybe?"

"I don't see how it would be," Noa answered.

Seto shook his head. "What do you need it for?"

"Well, I was hoping, maybe I could wear it in New York. If the president of I2 gets to wear one of your KC's suits, shouldn't I be in one too?"

Noa spun around toward Seto. "New York?" he asked quietly. "What's he talking about?"

"Something we were discussing. It's not a sure thing, yet."

"What's in New York? And what's 'I2'?" Noa addressed Mokuba.

Atem scoffed. He glanced in Seto's direction, eyebrows raised, but Seto shook his head.

" _What's I2_?" Yugi asked, sounding aghast. But he seemed to realize he'd spoken out, and shrunk back with his lips pursed.

"It's a gaming company." Seto explained. "They're hosting an event Mokuba would like to be involved in. I said I would consider taking him."

"Where are you going to get the money to go to—"

"Noa, this isn't the place. The kid wants a suit, so measure him."

"We can't just _make_ him a suit for something he probably isn't—"

" _Noa_. You have a customer who wants to purchase a product. Get to it."

"Whoa," Mokuba said, holding up his hands. "I didn't say anything about purchasing. I mean, I thought since we all live under the same roof, maybe I could do some extra chores or… I don't know."

"Don't worry. You're eligible for the family discount," he said with a wink. "Noa, don't make me tell you a third time."

"Don't be so snippy," he snapped with a glare as he climbed to his feet. He tried to usher Mokuba to the front room, but Mokuba didn't move.

"Actually, Seto, I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out a style?"

"Sure, kid," Seto said, on his feet in an instant.

"Mokuba, I'm perfectly qualified to help you choose a style," Noa whined as they led the way to the front.

"Yeah, but I want Seto to help me. You can do the measurements though."

" _Fine_."

Seto began digging out a couple of bolts of wool suiting fabric he thought went well with the color of Mokuba's hair—mostly blacks and a few deep grays—while Noa wrapped a measuring tape around various sections of Mokuba's body. Mokuba tried to follow Seto's movements around the small room with his eyes.

"Stop wiggling," Noa insisted.

"I'm not wiggling."

"Just stand still, little brother. The measurements only take a couple of minutes," Seto said, a violet tie in his hand. "I'll come to you when I've found some selections. What kind of style did you have in mind?"

"Something dramatic. I don't know. Can I wear a cape?"

"We don't make capes," Noa muttered.

"A cape isn't a horrible idea, but why don't we start with something more basic and build up from there?" Seto suggested. He piled his bolts on the counter top for Mokuba to sort through once Noa was finished with him.

"What kind of event is this, where a cape would be at all appropriate?" Noa demanded.

"A Duelist's Arena," Mokuba said with a grin.

"Like a coliseum? Seto, do you know what this kid is trying to get himself into?"

"Approximately. It's not a coliseum. It's just a card game."

"It's not _just_ a card game, Seto! One of your billionaire customers designed the game, and that's why he's a billionaire and able to afford your prices."

"I'm aware, Mokuba. Noa, it's a large event. It's going to be televised, not to mention plastered all over the internet for years to come."

"I'm still confused why you think you need a cape," Noa said, folding up his measuring tape. "I'm done."

Mokuba dashed to the counter as if he felt he'd never be free of the tape. Seto had begun flipping through a catalog of styles.

"I don't _need_ a cape, I guess. But… I want to make a statement. Ooh! Like _that_!" Mokuba held Seto's hand from turning the page and pointed to a long top coat in a cream color. The coat came down past the model's knees halfway, and the way it flared out in the photo seemed to defy gravity.

Noa peered over Mokuba's shoulder and clicked his tongue. "Double breasted? Bad idea."

"I don't even know what that means," Mokuba said, sounding annoyed.

"It's the buttons across the chest, instead of straight up the center," Seto clarified.

"Oh. I like that."

"Double-breasted coats are atrociously out of style!" Noa complained. "And those lapels are way too wide."

"So bring it back in style," Seto muttered. "I think this would look fantastic on him."

"What are lapels?"

"The front part of the collar, where it folds into the front of the jacket."

"I like that, too. Can you make something like that, but, like, more dramatic?"

"For a _card game_? Who even said you can go to New York?" Noa asked.

Seto pulled the open book close to his chest and opened his mouth, as the front bell rang again. The three brothers glanced up. When Seto saw a petite young woman in the doorway looking like she might be lost, he turned back to Noa. He forced himself to let out a breath, and lowered his voice.

"I think we have all the involvement on this order that we need from you. Why don't you go help a customer? Hmm?"

Noa stood a few inches from Seto, glaring. The amount he needed to strain his neck to look into Seto's eyes made Seto grin smugly, but that only seemed to irritate Noa more. He scoffed and turned away, lightly brushing Mokuba's shoulder as he passed.

"Watch it," Seto warned, placing a hand on Mokuba shoulder.

"Yes, _boss_ ," he muttered.


	17. Chapter 17

Yet again, Seto was astounded by the efficiency with which his twin used to slip in and out of masks for his beloved customers.

"Hello," he spoke to the young woman in a cheery voice. "How may we assist you?"

"Oh, please don't let me interrupt you. I'm, uh, waiting for someone."

"If another client is coming with you, I ought to tell you we close in about," Seto glanced at his watch, "eight minutes. We don't have time for another fitting today."

"No, that's alright. He's already here. He's working."

Seto furrowed his brows.

"May I ask who you're waiting for?" Noa asked before Seto could, much more politely than Seto would have.

"My brother. I'm his ride. Is it… Is it alright if I wait inside here?"

Mokuba finally stepped away from Seto, hands in his pockets, and sauntered closer to the woman.

"Serenity?" he asked.

The woman blinked, as if she were noticing Mokuba's presence for the first time.

"Oh my goodness! Mokuba? Is that you?"

"Glad to see you remember me," he said with a grin. "Your brother works here? That's funny. So do mine." Mokuba gestured to the two twins.

"My gosh, is one of you Seto?" She asked with a laugh.

Seto gave a wave of his hand.

"Mokuba talked about you _all_ the time! You were going to school for business, right?"

Seto gave a skeptical nod. "Who's your brother?" He asked.

"His name is Joey. And I really have to thank you for offering him this job. I can't believe what it's done for his confidence."

"He's quite a bold man already," Seto said.

"He is," she said with a smile. "Oh, Mokuba, I should have caught on when he said he was working here. I should have recognized the name Kaiba." Serenity waltzed up to the twins, Mokuba on her heels.

Seto noticed the boy's cheeks flush red.

"I'm Serenity." She stood in front of the twins, her hands clasped behind her back. She bowed her head to Seto first, then to Noa. "I'm Joey's little sister. And, I used to go to school with Mokuba."

"I thought most of Mokuba's classes were specific to his grade. Pardon me, but you're clearly not a sophomore, so I'm confused how you know each other so well."

"I'm a senior. I switched schools partway through the year."

"We've been in the same mixed study hall since my first day," Mokuba said.

"Right. We sat next to each other in study hall, and my locker was right around the corner from the sophomore section."

Mokuba wore a goofy grin. "You've been missed in study hall. It's _way_ boring without you."

"Aw, I'm sorry."

"I thought the point of study hall was to _study_ ," Seto said to Mokuba.

The redness in Mokuba's cheeks deepened.

"I guess our teacher was a little lenient. He always lets us talk. And things."

Serenity gave a giggle, but Seto couldn't seem to pick up anything hidden under his brother's words, so he decided to let it go for the moment.

"Noa," Seto said, "go ahead and tell Wheeler his ride is here."

His twin went without complaint, and Seto suspected he only cared to do so because there was company to account for.

"While you're in there, send Atem out."

"Fine," Noa said, pushing through the doorway. He sounded tired.

"What for?" Mokuba asked.

"He has a strong sense of his own style. You may benefit from his input as well."

"Okay. I guess I shouldn't have announced what I wanted this for. He would be my competition, after all. Maybe he'll suggest I wear something that makes me look like an idiot."

"Don't worry about that." Seto leaned in and whispered low. "I don't have to grant him the time off."

Mokuba scoffed and smacked Seto's arm with the catalog.

"You can't do that! That would be such blatant cheating! I could never accept the prize money that way even if I did win."

"Okay. Okay!" Seto shielded himself from another smack with the catalog, even though Mokuba couldn't possibly hurt him with it. "You don't have to take his help."

"You'll let him have the time off, right?"

"…I won't deny him the time off just to keep him out of the tournament. But if the time comes close and we _really_ can't spare him…"

"He's who I've been training to beat!"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Seto, you _have_ to!"

Seto heard a dark chuckle from behind him.

"I don't typically hear _you_ getting bossed around, Kaiba."

"He only thinks that's what he's doing," Seto said.

"I see. What can I do for you, Sir?" Atem asked, offering a little nod toward Serenity.

Seto snatched the catalog back from Mokuba and passed it to Atem.

"He wants us to make something like this."

"That's a very nice coat," he said, raising the book to closely examine the photo. "Mokuba, weren't you saying you wanted a suit?"

"Suits are kind of lame. I want _that_."

Seto tried his best to suppress a snort. "Careful not to let Noa hear you say that."

"Excuse me," Atem cut in. "I happen to be of the opinion that suits are rather interesting."

"You're paid to say that," Mokuba said with a smirk. "So how much can this pattern be altered? How much can I add?"

"That's a better question for Noa or Daimon," Seto said. "But that's not the stage we're in right now."

"Right. Why don't we try to nail down what you're looking for, Mokuba? Then we'll decide what's possible."

"I'm confident that if you present Noa with something he sees as a challenge, he'll take it on just to prove he can draft a good pattern for you."

"Noa said something about that front-collar-thing—"

"Lapel."

"—being really wide, but I actually think it would be cool if the tips came out almost to my shoulders. Maybe if the inside fabric was a different color?"

"I think I understand what you're asking," Atem said. Then he stepped back and appeared to size him up.

"I'm thinking a dark gray shell, wool, with a light lavender lining," Atem said.

"Satin," Seto added. "Not that acetate garbage."

" _Purple_?"

"Yes," Seto said. "It will be the garment's secondary color, and it won't show much. But it will be a good accent color for you."

"Your brother has good tastes, Mokuba. You're going to look great." Atem turned to Seto. "Sir, I don't even think you needed me for this."

"Actually, I appreciate a second opinion."

Atem smiled at Mokuba, then cleared his throat and turned to Seto. "Kaiba, now that this subject has been brought up, I ought to ask you."

Seto let out a knowing sigh, raising his eyebrows. "Yes?"

"I hope this is giving you enough notice, but I, as well as Yugi, do intend to be present—"

"I know. You'll need to keep tabs on the workload with Noa. He'll have enough of an issue with me for taking our brother that far for a card game. If I allow not one, but _two_ of his workers to request vacation for the same event, he's going to throw a fit."

"I expected that. But I gather, Sir, that _you_ would be the ruling voice on the matter."

"Seto, I said you have to let them go."

"I heard you, Mokuba. Atem, I'm not saying no. Once you've figured out your exact dates write them on the calender. Noa won't throw a fit at you, it'll be aimed at me. I'm sure you'll never hear a word of it. All I had meant was that I haven't gotten around to the conversation yet, for personal reasons."

"I see."

"I'm not automatically granting you and Yugi the time either. I can promise nothing until we get closer to the day."

Mokuba tugged at Seto's sleeve, but Seto brushed him off.

"I understand. I'll let Yugi know," Atem said, but he sounded disgruntled.

Noa returned from the back room wearing his coat, with a set of keys in his hand.

"Seto, I have that meeting with one of the contracted vendors. I can trust you to handle closing up, right?"

"Fine," he said, but even Seto could tell he sounded less than amused.

"Unless _you_ wanted to go to the meeting. We're discussing a new line of fabric they want us to carry."

"While that sounds _fascinating_ , I expect you may be better equipped for the job. You know fabrics better than I do. Go on without me."

"Your loss," Noa said with a thick sarcastic tone. He passed Serenity on his way to the door. "A pleasure to meet you."

The door closed behind him and Seto watched him climb into the car through the glass-paneled wall.

"Don't worry, Noa. I can take Mokuba home, but thanks for offering," Said muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"Actually, Seto, since I'm here, I was hoping I could catch a ride with Yugi?"

Seto furrowed his brows.

"Why?"

"I think I do need to buy a few extra cards for my deck." Mokuba's gaze flashed to Atem. "Do you think he'll mind?"

Atem directed him back to Seto.

"It's up to your brother, but it certainly wouldn't bother me. I doubt it would bother him. Although, tonight Yugi and I promised to help prepare the shop for an event later in the week. We were intending to get back there rather soon."

"That's cool. I think I'm done here." Mokuba flashed a pleading expression at Seto.

"Whatever. But I'll pick you up at seven. I want to make sure you're keeping up with your homework."

"That'll be plenty of time. So I can go?"

"I suppose."

Seto checked his watch and, seeing it was only two minutes to close, he sidestepped Serenity and made his way to the door. He flipped the lock and turned off the 'open' sign.

"When you're ready to leave, just flip the lock open again. I'll lock it behind you."

"Okay."

"Mokuba, if you're okay with what we talked about, I'll give it to Noa and he can take it from there. He'll draw you a sketch and if you like it, he'll start drafting the pattern."

Mokuba beamed. "Awesome! Thank you big brother!" he said, wrapping his arms around Seto's chest.

Seto worked to remove the boy from himself when Joseph and Yugi came out from the workroom.

Joseph elbowed Yugi in the shoulder. He leaned in like he was going to whisper, but Seto doubted the man knew what the word discretion mean.

"See? I knew the guy had a heart, buried somewhere."

Yugi chuckled, but forced his face straight again as they approached Seto.

"You three got a cute little family, you know? Pointless banter and everything."

"That's the problem with running a family business," Seto said without a trace of humor in his voice. "It always seems to make private affairs public."

Atem stepped up and walked alongside Joseph and Yugi. He stood close enough to the blond man that Seto couldn't help but notice. And once he did, he had trouble focusing on much else.

"Joey, did your order work out well?" Atem asked.

"Well enough, but if you could help a guy out and check it out tomorrow, I'd sure appreciate it. Maybe you can walk me through if I need to rework it?"

"I would be delighted to assist. Have yourself a good night."

"You too, man."

He slapped Mokuba on the back with a grin as he passed.

"Good to meet you, little man."

Seto had to resist the urge to tell him not to come back. But even he had to admit, the man hadn't done anything wrong. Atem was the root of the problem.

"Yeah," Mokuba said, but seemed distracted by something as well.

Serenity watched her brother walk to the door, looking after her, but she didn't move.

"I'm really happy I ran into you, Mokuba."

"Same here," he said, the blush rising in his cheeks again.

"I have something I'd like to give you," she said, and began rummaging in her purse.

A few seconds later she pulled out a tiny, flowery spiral notebook and a pen, and scribbled something on one of the pages. Then she tore the paper out and folded it in half, passing it to Mokuba.

"Uh, thanks." He took the page without opening it, waving her out the door as she left.

When she and Joseph had gone, Seto leaned over Mokuba's shoulder and watched him open the paper. Written on it with cute bubbly script—in purple ink, no less—was Serenity Wheeler's name, phone number, and even an email address. She'd included a tiny heart at the bottom of the page.

"What kind of " _stuff_ " did you two do in study hall?" Seto asked, still leaning over Mokuba's shoulder.

Mokuba seemed to notice him for the first time, and stuffed the paper in his pocket.

"Nothing."

"That's not your 'nothing' face," Seto said with a smirk.

"Let it go!" he said, pushing away from Seto. "Hey Yugi. My brother said I can catch a ride to the Game shop with you. I'm ready whenever."

"Oh—okay. If that's really alright with you, Sir?" Yugi asked in his usual timid voice.

"I already gave him permission."

"Great. Coming along to spice up your deck a little?"

"As much as I can."

"Atem, are you almost ready? We need to go." He waved his cousin closer to the door as Mokuba began to trail behind him.

"Fine. Just let me pack up my station. I'll be right out," Atem said, and returned to the workroom.

Before Seto realized what he was doing, he followed the smaller man into the back.

* * *

A/N: I've allowed myself to get slightly off schedule. Unintended. The next update will come on Sunday. Thank you for your patience, everyone! We've got a ways to go yet.

-omgagr


	18. Chapter 18

"Muto, I need to have a word with you before you go today."

Atem winced, then glanced toward the storefront.

"Does it have to be today? If it can it wait until the morning, I can come in early."

"I'm sure your ride can wait a few minutes."

"Not really. Not today. We have a lot of planning to do tonight, and Yugi and I promised we would be at the shop just after five tonight."

"You'll figure something out. I'm not asking."

Atem nodded with hesitation.

Seto stood quietly in the doorway, the door between the two halves of the shop propped open. His employees, one by one, began to leave.

Yugi poked his head into the workroom. "Coming, Atem?"

"Give me a minute," Atem said over his shoulder, hanging up a vested suit.

"Okay. I'll be outside with Mokuba. Try to be quick?"

"Sure."

"We can't keep Grandpa waiting tonight."

"I know, Yugi. If I'm not out soon enough, go without me."

"But!"

"I'll figure something out," he said, sending his cousin off.

Seto scanned over the rest of the room. As Noa was typically the last person out the door, Noa's absence allowed him a reason to clear out the rest of the shop. Daimon continued to work as if he hadn't even noticed the time. Cicero had already left, leaving Daimon and Vivian.

"You two can leave," Seto said subtly, but he made certain his tone didn't leave room for resistance.

Daimon packed up without a word, but Vivian gave Seto a pout.

He leaned over her station, and the woman's eyes washed over him, until he spoke.

"I'm not asking, Miss Wong. Please pack up your station and leave."

She gave a heaving sigh and complied.

"I'll come in early tomorrow to make up the time. Goodnight, Seto," she said in her sweetest, most innocent voice.

Seto watched after his bold employee, unsure exactly what to think of her. But it didn't matter. In another minute, Seto and Atem had the shop to themselves.

"What's on your mind, Kaiba?"

Seto wasn't sure where to begin. He decided to start with the root of his irritation, Joseph.

"I don't think you need to consort with Wheeler the way you do."

Atem appeared surprised. "Usually when you want to talk to me in private, it's to diminish my work efforts. Is this personal?"

"This has everything to do with your work efforts. You're not making as much effort as long as you allow yourself to be distracted by that man."

Atem narrowed his eyes. "Distracted? What exactly do you think is going on?"

"It doesn't matter. You've lost your focus. I don't care what your distraction is if it's causing you to slow down."

"Slow down? Hardly. I'm working with Joseph to help speed him up, and I'm having results. If I'm working any slower you're still getting an increase in your rate of production."

"You agreed to help him re-work his mistakes in the morning."

" _If_ he made any."

"The point remains. If that's the case, I'll have two workers not increasing output, for however long it takes you both to finish up a job it should take one person to complete. Once."

"You aren't taking into account the fact that he's still learning."

"I am. But it isn't your job to babysit anyone else. He should be asking Noa or Daimon, or someone else who's been here more than _five minutes_. If you want to find fulfilling relationships, find them outside of this workroom," Seto said before he realized what had slipped out.

"Relationships? That _is_ what you think is happening between Joseph and I! But whether or not that's true, I don't see how it's any of your business."

"The entire business is _mine_. I decide on the policies of conduct."

"And you're demanding that employees are not allowed to be involved with each other? How do you expect to enforce such a rule?"

The argument was going in a direction Seto hadn't intended.

"If this is your business, Kaiba, I want to see you truly own it. Stop with this petty micro-management and do something about the _real_ problems. The upset clients. The workload."

"What more do you expect me to do about the workload?"

"That's up to you to figure out. But you cannot spend your resources continuing to chase things that don't rightfully belong to you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

The business legally belonged to him on paper, and no amount of senseless arguing would change that fact. But had Atem intended the double meaning? Did the man realize he was being chased? If Seto _was_ chasing him, he wasn't sure he realized it himself.

"I don't belong to you. You haven't yet earned the right to place a claim on me or what I do with my life. Excuse me. My ride is waiting."

Seto glanced over his shoulder, through the glass doors on the far side of the store front. But the only car he saw was his own.

Atem tried to slide through the doorway but Seto put his arm up, closing off the space.

"Kaiba, stop."

"I will. But I need you to answer my question first."

"You can't keep me here until I do what you ask."

"I'm not _asking_ ," he said with a growl.

Atem tried to shove Seto's arm loose, but Seto's grip on the door frame tightened. He backed off with a heavy sigh.

"What do you want?"

"Speak plainly. Tell me what you meant when you challenged me to claim you."

Atem leaned back against the nearest sewing desk.

"I challenged you? If that's what I said, it isn't what I meant. I only wanted to see you work for what you think you already own."

"You said I didn't deserve you."

"I never said that!"

"You insinuated the concept."

"I _said_ , you hadn't _earned_ the right yet."

"Yet."

"What makes you think you have some level of ownership over me, or that you could? Why should you be able to dictate what I decide to do or not do with my life?"

Seto struggled to come up with an answer.

"You're being unreasonable," Atem said. "Who I spend my time with is not your concern. Now, since you have no plausible reason to keep me here, I would like to leave."

"I have the authority," Seto said. The words slipped out before he could change his mind.

"The _authority_? Fine, I'll agree that you have the power to fire me if I don't do what you say. But what kind of demand are you trying to inflict on me, Kaiba? Are you going to make me work overtime?"

"I could."

"I've already clocked out for the day. Are you going to make me work longer? Chain my ankle to my desk? If you're trying to build a sweatshop, I suppose I would be a good candidate to begin with. I work much faster than many of your other employees."

This wasn't working. _Why wasn't this working?_

"This is absurd. Let me through."

Atem ducked under Seto's arm before he could try to stop him again.

Seto whirled around and reached for Atem's wrist. But he pulled back before he could touch the other man. Seto was no longer certain what he wanted, but he didn't want it to go that way.

Atem didn't seem to notice a thing.

Instead, Seto grabbed his coat and briefcase, taking an infuriatingly long minute to unplug the steamers, pack up the cash drawer, and click off the light. He followed Atem out the front, locking the door behind him. A light drizzle fell on his face from the overcast sky.

"Leave me alone," Atem called over his shoulder.

"Just stop."

Atem passed Seto's car. It was the only vehicle left in the front lot. Seto kept on his trail, but stopped when he reached his rust-bucket.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," he said, spinning around and walking backwards. "If you agree to keep out of my personal affairs—and if you're lucky—I'll consider coming back tomorrow."

"Are you going to walk the whole way?"

Atem shrugged, turning forward again, but didn't answer.


	19. Chapter 19

Seto watched him for a while before getting in his car and driving along the curb of the shop's front walk. He rolled down his window, even though that meant the rain was getting in.

"Your apartment isn't anywhere near here. Let me give you a ride." He wasn't sure why he had offered. His actions were starting to seem overboard even to him. But he continued to drive along the length of the parking lot until Atem glanced over. Seto stopped the car.

"That's your car? I thought someone had abandoned it here."

"It was my father's. Do you want a ride, or not?"

The rain steadily picked up.

"Consider the subject dropped," Seto called over the pattering of raindrops. They were falling in through his open window, soaking his arm and the top of his head as he leaned out. "I'm the reason you missed your ride. Let me make it up to you."

Atem stopped walking away, but didn't return to Seto immediately.

"Are you certain that car can make it without breaking down?"

"That's funny," Seto conceded, but didn't laugh. "Even if it doesn't, I'll pay for a cab. It's better than walking the whole way in the rain, isn't it?"

Atem seemed to ponder his options another moment, but eventually turned around. He walked back to Seto's car and got in, already dripping wet.

"Sorry I'm soaking your seat," he said, but his tone held an edge of bitterness.

"Don't worry about it," Seto said, driving off. "Hopefully this piece of junk will be a cube in a couple of weeks."

"I'm surprised you drive something this old."

"You've considered what kind of car I should drive?"

Atem gave a chuckle. "You're very concerned about your appearance for presentation's sake."

The answer startled Seto. Was he really so transparent? But, he supposed Atem wasn't wrong about his evaluation.

"…That's why I typically park in the back."

"I saw you get out of a car at the game shop from Yugi's bedroom. You weren't driving… _this_."

"I was in my brother's car. This one was broken down."

"He gets all the nice toys, doesn't he?"

"My father bought it for us to share as teenagers. It was supposed to be _our_ car, but you might be shocked to hear we aren't great at sharing. When my father passed, I just let him have it."

Seto was only talking about vehicles, but he realized the level of detail he just let free was more than he would have told anybody else.

A silence settled into the vehicle, Atem only speaking to give directions. When he said they were only a few minutes away, Seto knew he had to circle back in the conversation.

"I was out of line tonight," Seto said, feeling like the sentence came out of nowhere.

Atem's silence told him he probably felt so as well.

"You're a good worker, and I want you to continue with the business. I hope my actions didn't scare you away."

"It would take a lot more than that to frighten me."

"I wasn't trying to."

Atem pointed to a tall building in the middle of a block of equally tall buildings. The rain had mostly subsided, and Atem would have the cover of a couple of trees to walk under until he reached the building's porch.

"This is me," he said, and opened his door. But he glanced back at Seto.

"Look, Atem. Today…"

"You said you would drop the topic."

Seto gave a nod. He found himself wishing that his car would have broken down on the way over, forcing them to have more time to straighten out the mess he'd created.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Boss."

* * *

Seto pulled away and navigated to the Turtle Game shop. It wasn't seven yet—barely after six, even—but Seto parked and entered the shop.

Mokuba was standing in front of the counter, looking like he was trying to make up his mind.

"You're early."

"Sorry. Something came up. I think we need to go."

"I hear," boomed the old man's voice from somewhere in the stock room, "that you tried to keep my boys late tonight."

Seto glared in the direction of the disembodied voice.

"It's my authority to do so, especially if your _boys_ want to keep their jobs."

Mister Muto came out from the stock room, breathing loudly and carrying a heavy looking box.

"I've been running this business for years, Mister Kaiba. Sometimes I have help, sometimes I don't. But if you want my advice on how to keep good workers, I recommend you don't keep them from their families."

"I didn't come here for business advice," he said flatly. "I don't need anything from you."

The old man flashed a glare that Seto returned.

"H-hey bro?"

Seto felt his demeanor soften the smallest fraction at the sound of Mokuba's voice.

"Where's Atem? Did he make it home?"

"I offered him a ride. He requested his apartment."

"So everything's good?"

"Everything's fine," he said, but his jaw felt tight. "Finish up."

Mokuba nodded and placed a few booster packs on the counter, then he listed off to Mister Muto the individual selections displayed inside the glass cases.

"Everything here is covered by your credits, Mokuba. Have yourself a good night."

"Thanks. You too."

"And good luck with your training. I suspect you may need it."

Mokuba looked back, but didn't say anything as he followed Seto out the door.

* * *

Mokuba lay on his stomach across his bed, idly playing with the corner of one of his cards. Seto had pulled an office chair from his own room to sit in while he flipped through the Magic and Wizards handbook he'd found inside Mokuba's deck box.

"Are we ever gonna play?"

"It won't be a real game if we're each only using half your deck."

"I know, but you're the only opponent I have access to without going to the Turtle."

Seto folded a page in the booklet and set it down on the bed. "Maybe I should get my own deck."

Mokuba blinked, silent for a beat.

"Are you serious?"

Seto shrugged. "Would it help you?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm sure you're gonna smoke me by using just half my deck. Not even the good half, either. If you had your own deck I can only imagine how much better I could get at this game just by watching you."

Seto gave the idea some thought, but didn't give Mokuba an answer.

"Have you registered for this thing yet?"

"No."

"Have you at least figured out _how_?"

"Yeah! It's just that…"

"Yes?"

"Well, there's a fee. A small one. And I need your signature. But, I… I don't have enough to cover the fee."

"How much is it?"

"Only a hundred."

"Tch. _Only_. If you don't win this thing, I hope you realize you'll be cooking dinner every night for a month."

"You really want to eat my food every day for that long?"

Seto wrinkled his nose. "Maybe two months, and we can alternate days so there's some amount of edible food in the house. But by the end of it your cooking might not be so bad. Who knows?"

"It doesn't matter," Mokuba said with a sweet, boyish smile. "I can't lose. I've got the best teacher _ever_!"

"I'd say flattery doesn't work on me, but we both know I'd be lying. Shuffle your deck."

Mokuba sprang upward, curling his legs underneath him.

* * *

"You can't win with a strategy like _that_ ," Seto scolded as Mokuba tossed another throw-away monster into his grave.

"What are you talking about? I use this strategy all the time. If I can keep my opponents from attacking for a turn when I have a magic card in my hand that destroys their monsters, I can usually get ahead."

"Maybe if you're playing against an amateur. It's a cheap attempt at victory."

"Okay, you know what? Switch cards with me."

"That's even cheaper. And probably not tournament legal."

"I don't care," Mokuba said, laughing. "We're learning. Take my hand—look, just sit in my spot. Now, take my half of the field and show me what you would do with those cards."

Seto obliged, though he struggled for a moment to find a comfortable position on Mokuba's bed while his brother settled in to the chair. He flipped through Mokuba's hand and peeked at the couple of cards he'd placed face-down on the field.

"Since I have to pretend I'm not aware that I—rather, my opponent—has placed a card on the field that would deflect this whole strategy, I would try _this._ "

* * *

A/N: I finally made a target date! Just an FYI, I haven't yet decided if there will be duels in this story, but if I do include them they will not be in detail. Therefore, there's not much of a reason for me to go into detail here, either. We know Seto's strategies, so I hope no one feels ripped off by me not showing specific cards or duelist theories here. Anyway, thanks for all the support! I love how many new readers this story has gotten lately. See you next time!


	20. Chapter 20

"Seto? I have a problem," Mokuba said, setting down his cards. "It's about the tournament."

"There's not another fee, is there? This is starting to get expensive."

"No, it's not that. I was reading around in some forums. Someone popped into this thread with inside information."

"On the internet? You have no way to verify it."

"I know… But just listen."

"I'm listening."

"Someone said that the finals are going to be run differently than the preliminary rounds."

"Different how?"

"The matches in the finals will be based on teams. I guess you're supposed to choose who's left out of all the finalists and make your own teams."

"Interesting. How did this stranger on the internet claim to have come across the information?"

"I want to say it was leaked on purpose. The guy's tag was something like "diceman" or whatever. I poked around in his profile a bit and I think I've figured out who he might be."

"Your conclusion?"

"When you came with me to the Turtle, did you see a board game there called Dungeon Dice Monsters?"

"I might have."

"This guy, I think he's the same guy who created that game."

"So? I don't see how that qualifies as insider information."

"His game is similar to CapMon, in that it's based off of the monsters in Magic and Wizards. Now, that's fine for CapMon because I2 makes both the games. But the guy, his name is Devlin I think. He partnered with I2 to be able to make his game."

"Right. Licensing," Seto nodded.

"Yeah. So he works with Maximillion Pegasus. They're, like, friends or something. So I think there's some basis to his tip, and I get the feeling that I2 put him up to it, since he has a large online presence."

"So what if there is? So what if he's right?"

"Yugi and Atem are definitely going to make it to the last round. I've never seen anyone better than them, even at conventions. They're kind of famous in certain circles."

"I believe that."

"And if they do, I know they're going to team up together."

"Or maybe they won't. Maybe they'll spread their skill base out to make sure that somehow one of them goes home with the first prize."

"That's not how they operate when they play. Those two are best friends. They're like… they're like brothers. I'd even say they might be closer than we are."

"So what?"

"So, I can't beat them together!"

"If that rumor is true, you'll have a partner, too. You could still win."

"Not if I have to fight alongside a stranger! I won't know their strategies, their deck. I won't really know anything about them."

"What kind of grand solution are you looking for, here? Don't tell me you're ready to back out."

"No. I'm a Kaiba. Kaiba's don't _quit_."

Somewhere in the back of Seto's mind, he heard a dark chuckle.

"I like that attitude."

"I think you should join the tournament, too."

"Just so I can be your partner at the very end, in the event that this rumor is true?"

"No, so that we can be a united team, too. I don't care as much about the prize money, but if I could do this fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with my big bro, even if we lose I'll be happy."

"I haven't played much yet. How do you know I can help you win?"

"'Cause you're a genius, duh. You've got so much talent for strategy, there's no way you can lose."

 _Natural talent_ , Seto thought. This could be his chance to flaunt his own natural abilities in front of Atem. The idea was too tempting to resist.

"If you help me and we win—even just third prize—I'll split the money with you. I'm sure you could use it."

"Don't offer me that, Mokuba. I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you. You can't ask me to take from what's supposed to be your college fund as a bribe to get me to play."

"You're not going to, then?"

"I'm already taking you to the tournament, and I was already considering buying a deck to help you practice. I don't see what the harm would be."

" _Really_?"

"Really. And if we win, but only if we're in _first_ place, I'll consider accepting an amount to make up for our trip and entry fees, but nothing more.

"Are you sure? I mean, I could probably make up the rest of what I need in scholarships."

"I'm doing this for you, not me. I have my own source of income."

Mokuba paused, looking reflective. "Okay. Deal."

He held out his hand, and Seto shook it.

Seto helped pack up Mokuba's cards and handed them to him.

"I suppose the next step would be for me to get my own deck."

"You know, there's another shop, kind of close by, if you don't want to go to the Mutos' Turtle to buy your deck. Remember I was talking about Devlin? He owns the Black Clown a few blocks away from the Turtle."

"Where do these people come up with the names for their businesses?"

"I don't know," Mokuba agreed. "I know our business name will be way cooler. Something with a great ring to it."

Seto gave a chuckle, but shook his head. "Are you suggesting I might want to go to this Black Clown instead?"

"You're more likely to be able to keep your deck a secret from our competition if you go to there. Then again, the Turtle focuses more on M&W. They're a smaller shop but they usually have better selection. Balance it, maybe. Buy some cards from both places."

Seto nodded. "I'll just make sure to go to Muto's when only the old man is around."

"Solomon. He's a great guy. Takes himself kind of seriously, but he's got some amazing tips, if you—"

The house phone rang. Mokuba took one glance at the clock on his dresser, and jumped out of Seto's chair.

Eyebrows furrowed, Seto got up to lumber after him.

He found his brother a moment later, sitting on the couch in the living room. He pressed the cordless phone to his ear, a goofy smile plastered on his face. Seto raised his eyebrows, but Mokuba waved him away.

Seto wandered into the kitchen to accomplish some filing or schoolwork on the laptop, but he found Noa at the table, browsing on the machine. With a frustrated sigh, Seto began digging through the refrigerator for suitable leftovers and retreated to his room.

* * *

No less than forty-five minutes later, when Seto had engrossed himself in his computer program, Mokuba returned upstairs without the phone.

"Who was that?" Seto called down the hall.

"No one…" Mokuba called back. "A friend."

"A girl?" he asked, smirking.

"...Yes."

Rather than retreating to his bedroom, Mokuba came to stand in the doorway to Seto's room. He never seemed to be too interested in coming in, usually insisting that they hang out somewhere else. But Seto didn't blame him. The room used to be Gozaburo's.

"Good. You need something to get you out of the house once in a while."

"Are you saying I should go on dates?"

"If it gets you off the computer a little bit."

"You're one to talk! You're on one right now!"

"I'm too busy to date. You're a teenager. It's expected for you to focus on your social life." Seto looked up from his programming. "Was it that girl from the shop earlier? Wheeler's sister?"

"Small world, huh? Who else do you think I know that's associated with KC?"

Seto only responded with a shrug and returned to his typing.

"So, it's funny that you should say that. I was kind of thinking… I don't know…"

"If you want to ask her out, you should."

"You think so?"

"The worst she can do is tell you no. She seemed to really like you, so if she's not interested, at least you can still be friends. Ask her."

"Right. Okay. I'll do it. I'm gonna ask her. I'll call her tomorrow."

"Good. In the meantime, it's getting late. You should probably get to bed."

"I'm going to. But I wanted to mention something."

"Alright."

"Yugi and I had a good, long chat today while I was picking out some cards. Some of it was about Atem. Mostly, it was about you."

Seto turned from his monitor.

"That's not appropriate, Mokuba. They're my employees. It's fine if you want to do business with them, but leave me out of it."

"But I'm part of why you hired Atem in the first place, aren't I? Our tournaments together?"

"I used your experiences to verify what he said, but if he couldn't sew I wouldn't have hired him."

"Okay, so I won't go back _just_ to visit with him. But that doesn't change that he said some really interesting things today."

Seto let out a sigh. "What kind of interesting things?"


	21. Chapter 21

Seto prepared himself for an awkward morning between himself and Atem as he stepped out of the house. He found himself relieved that Noa's car was gone by the time he made it to the garage, knowing his twin would exist as another buffer in case the shop was too quiet, but he didn't rejoice in his twin's presence for any other reason.

But as Seto pulled through an intersection less than half-way to work, his car gave a loud cough just before the engine died.

He pounded a hand on the steering wheel.

"Son of a…!" he swore, clenching his teeth.

He tried to corral the car to the curb. It drifted to a slow stop with the rear bumper hanging in the next lane. He turned the key once, and then again, but the car gave no response. There was nothing Seto could do but throw on his hazard lights and wait for a break in the traffic.

He slid out of the car and moved to the curb to dial Kaiba's Coats while he waited.

"Good morning, you've reached Kaiba's Coats. This is Noa speaking. How may I assist you?"

"It's me."

"Hello, Boss. Everything alright?"

There was a pause as Seto noticed a chance to move in and push his car, but he chose to let it pass as traffic picked up again. The cars in the oncoming lane slowed as vehicles had to swerve around his tail, many of them honking.

"Just letting you know I'll be in late."

Noa gave a groan. "Is everything alright?"

"Just fine. Father's car just died. It might be time for a replacement."

"Can't you get it fixed?"

"I just got it fixed."

Noa's voice turned low. "We can't exactly afford a new car right now, Seto."

"Noa, I just dumped hundreds of dollars into this piece of junk for the same exact problem. The engine's out again. I swear, the mechanic used duct tape."

"Maybe there's a warranty on the repairs."

"I would have to be an idiot to go back to the same mechanic."

"What other choices do we have?"

"Noa, don't fight me on this. I'm parked in the middle of traffic with my hazards on, trying not to get hit by an oncoming vehicle while I _push_ this thing off the road. I need a new car."

The line was quiet, but Seto could still hear noise in the background. Noa didn't answer.

"Look, I'm just calling to let you know not to expect me."

When Noa still didn't respond, Seto huffed and hung up the phone.

* * *

Seto rode in the front seat of the tow truck to the closest repair shop. The man driving the truck was a pudgy, greasy-looking man. He wasn't sure if the stench was coming from the man, or if it was permanently encased in the upholstery, but he spent the entire ride trying to cover his nose with every breath.

He arrived at a local repair shop he was certain he'd taken his father's beat up vehicle to before, some other time it had broken down. He was instructed to wait in a room lined with linoleum chairs.

A television in the corner blared with the upbeat tempo of an exercise infomercial. Beside the television sat a table, with a pot of coffee he was certain would taste as much like oil and grease as the air in the shop smelled.

Kaiba's Coats rang on his cell phone's caller ID while he waited.

"Kaiba," Seto answered.

"What's the verdict?" Noa's voice came over the line.

"I haven't heard back from the mechanics yet."

"No, I mean, are you coming in?"

"Do you really need me there right now?"

"We could use some customer service assistance."

"You want me to take a cab just so I can count change for you?"

"It's you or me. We're short staffed today."

"Who hasn't come in?" Seto asked, his heart thumping so hard he could feel it.

"Miss Hopkins has an event today. It's been on the calendar. You must have forgotten that you're the one who put it on the schedule."

"…Right. I remember."

A mechanic poked his head through the glass shop door and waved him out.

"I'm going to have to call you back." He hung up the phone without waiting for a response.

The mechanic held out a part for Seto to examine. He didn't know much about auto repair, simply from lack of experience. But he knew enough about motors and engines to understand that if a part were rusted to pieces as badly as the mangled mess in the mechanic's hand, something was bound to stop working.

"It's not good," the man said with a voice sounding like he smoked eight packs a day.

"I can see that. What's the repair cost?"

The mechanic winced.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg. You can pay us to fix it, but it's not gonna last too long. The undercarriage is so rusted, pretty soon all you'll have left is the steering wheel."

"I get the picture," Seto said with a touch of irritation. Why wasn't he getting any practical answers? Did the man think he couldn't grasp the concept of mechanical work simply because he came in wearing a suit? "What do you recommend?"

"We work hand-in-hand with the towing company that brought your shiny ride in. If you leave it with us, I can guarantee you that the scrap metal will cover your towing costs. You'll break even."

How would he get to work, not just today, but until he found himself a replacement he could afford?

"I have to make a phone call."

"Sure. Take all the time you need."

As the mechanic disappeared, Seto redialed the shop. He got Noa again on the first try.

"Listen. The mechanic didn't give me an estimate. He recommends scrapping it. Are you okay with that?"

"Why are you asking me? As long as you're able to get here, I don't care what you do."

Seto was silent a moment.

"It was Father's car. I thought scrapping it without a thought might bother you."

"Whatever, Seto. Do what you have to do."

Seto didn't believe him for a second, but he wasn't about to fight the point.

"Fine. But this might mean we have to consolidate our remaining vehicle for now."

"I'm sorry, _our_ vehicle? It's _my_ car. I can't wait around every morning for you to decide to come in five minutes before we open."

"Noa, what do you want me to do? The car is dead."

"You had no problem with Mokuba taking the bus yesterday. Take the bus."

"I never said I had no problem with him taking the bus, but that's a separate issue. Mokuba rode his bike nearly a mile to the bus stop from our house. I'm not doing that."

"You're a real stand-up inspiration, Boss. I hope you know that. I love your dedication."

The line went dead. Seto pinched the bridge of his nose. He squeezed the fist wrapped around his cell phone, willing himself _not_ to chuck it against the wall.

Pay to take a cab, or let his workers be inefficient. Fix his car, or replace it.

Let Mokuba drag him to New York, or let his little brother miss out on a chance to chase his dreams.

There weren't enough resources to spread around for the decisions Seto needed to make, and even money wouldn't solve all his problems.


	22. Chapter 22

Without an office space, Seto found himself unable to keep busy within the shop on a daily basis. He could only spend so many afternoons rummaging through a magazine to order more thread, fabric and needles, and other supplies. Being moved around constantly was an aggravation.

He was forced to work from home to do his billing in the morning, and as a result Seto didn't catch a cab to the shop until nearly noon. But what he walked in on helped him realize that had been a mistake.

The front room, which was usually fairly empty, had a crowd of mulling clients, apparently waiting for their turns in the dressing rooms. Seto greeted each man, some with a wife or companion, as he passed by and stepped into the workroom. He set his briefcase on the floor beside the door, draped his coat over Noa's empty chair, and retreated to the front room.

A particularly screechy female voice resounded over everyone's quiet chatter.

"This is _not_ what I ordered!" the woman barked.

Noa stood nearby, looking entirely flustered. For all of his confidence and people skills while things were going well in the shop, Noa was floundering when problems arose.

Seto approached the woman coolly.

"Miss Valentine?" he asked, one hand in his pocket and the other held out for her to shake.

"Who are _you_? Why on earth are children running this shop? I want to see the owner!"

"I am the owner, Miss Valentine. May I call you Mai?"

Noa elbowed him in the back, and Seto did his best not to react.

"Are you crazy?" Noa asked in a whisper. "Don't be stupid."

The woman narrowed her eyes at Seto. But then she quirked the slightest smile.

"You're gutsy, kid. You sure you want to go there with me?"

"I'm not. But I see you're having problems with our products, and I'd like to address your concerns as efficiently as possible."

He continued to hold his hand out, and eventually she took it. But she looked him squarely in the eyes for a moment before letting go.

"Are you one of Kaiba's kids?"

"I am."

"I am _not_ pleased with my order. The color is wrong, the fabric isn't soft enough, and the fit is too loose. Don't these people know a thing about bust darts? This is supposed to be a _jacket_ , not a circus tent."

Miss Valentine peered around Seto, at Yugi and Rebecca standing behind him. Seto followed her gaze. Yugi's hands were in his pockets, and he mostly stared at the ground. Seto wondered if he hadn't been a part of sewing the order, though it seemed a little too advanced for his skills. Rebecca stood straight up, her hands clasped in front of her. Her expression read of concern.

"Who are these kids? Don't tell me _these_ are the kind of people you're hiring to sew my garments!"

"Not these two in particular, no. They're new hires in training, but they're not ready to take on such a project."

Miss Valentine clicked her tongue.

"Your business is circling the drain, Mister Kaiba. I suggest you fix it before I, and many other customers, begin to find another place to go."

"That won't be necessary, Miss Valentine," he said, abandoning the notion of calling her Mai.

This _was the woman Mokuba decided to crush on?_ Seto pondered.

Certainly, the woman was stunning. Her mile-long legs were thin and toned. Her short pewter grey skirt appeared to be business attire, to match the jacket she wore with it, but the length barely covered her. But her demeanor was entirely rude and demanding to be a young high school student's favorite teacher.

"Why don't you try your garments on, and I'll have one of the experienced tailors take a look at it."

Kissing ass was not Seto's favorite part of owning a business, but it had to be done and Noa certainly wasn't skilled enough at faking humility to do a good job of it.

"What about you? You said you're the owner here. Own up."

"I can't do that," he admitted without missing a beat. But rather than admit to his lack of tailoring experience, he decided to float all the attention to Daimon.

"The man I'm going to send out to assist you has more sewing experience than I have life experience. You'll be much better off in his hands than in mine."

Seto realized as soon as the words left his mouth and a sneer rose onto the woman's face how lewd his wording came off.

Without a word, Miss Valentine huffed into the dressing room and slammed the door. Something about the sound of her movements as she began to undress with speed interested Seto, far more than was appropriate in his work setting. To distract himself, he ushered Yugi toward the back room.

Another dressing room door opened and a man came out, piling a load of slacks into Rebecca's arms, and he let her assist him alone. Seto sidestepped the briefcase he'd left on the floor, admittedly in a vicarious position, but didn't bother to move it yet. Valentine would be out and ready in a blink, and he needed to be ready.

"Daimon, you're up."

The old toad glanced up from his work, his thick round glasses glinting in the florescent light.

"I don't know who sewed this woman's order, but we'll deal with that later. She's not happy, and I'm not going to push our customers out the door. Daimon, get out there with your tape and chalk and address her concerns."

Daimon nodded once, pushing his chair back swiftly. The man was likely irritated to be bossed around by someone he surely still saw as a snot-nosed child, but he didn't care. He wasn't interested in business to make friends.

As Daimon pulled the door open, Noa burst through the doorway in a huff. He carried half the stack of slacks Rebecca had been handed, now neatly draped over hangers. Seto watched the two men step past each other in slow motion, as Noa's right foot clipped the side of Seto's briefcase.

Seto stood only a few feet away, but couldn't seem to make his limbs move quickly enough to catch Noa as he stumbled over himself. His foot caught on the steel case, knocking it over and toppling over it onto the tile floor. He lay sprawled across the entry, his foot twisted in an unnatural direction.


	23. Chapter 23

Without an office space, Seto found himself unable to keep busy within the shop on a daily basis. He could only spend so many afternoons rummaging through a magazine to order more thread, fabric and needles, and other supplies. Being moved around constantly was an aggravation.

He was forced to work from home to do his billing in the morning, and as a result Seto didn't enter the office until late the next afternoon. But what he walked in on helped him realize that had been a mistake.

The front room, which was usually fairly empty, had a crowd of mulling clients, apparently waiting for their turns in the dressing rooms. Seto greeted each man, some with a wife or companion, as he passed by and stepped into the workroom. He set his briefcase on the floor beside the door, draped his coat over Noa's empty chair, and retreated to the front room.

A particularly screechy female voice resounded over everyone's quiet chatter.

"This is _not_ what I ordered!" the woman barked.

Noa stood nearby, looking entirely flustered. For all of his confidence and people skills while things were going well in the shop, Noa was floundering when problems arose.

Seto approached the woman coolly.

"Miss Valentine?" he asked, one hand in his pocket and the other held out for her to shake.

"Who are _you_? Why on earth are children running this shop? I want to see the owner!"

"I am the owner, Miss Valentine. May I call you Mai?"

Noa elbowed him in the back, and Seto did his best not to react.

"Are you crazy?" Noa asked in a whisper. "Don't be stupid."

The woman narrowed her eyes at Seto. But then she quirked the slightest smile.

"You're gutsy, kid. You sure you want to go there with me?"

"I'm not. But I see you're having problems with our products, and I'd like to address your concerns as efficiently as possible."

He continued to hold his hand out, and eventually she took it. But she looked him squarely in the eyes for a moment before letting go.

"Are you one of Kaiba's kids?"

"I am."

"I am _not_ pleased with my order. The color is wrong, the fabric isn't soft enough, and the fit is too loose. Don't these people know a thing about bust darts? This is supposed to be a _jacket_ , not a circus tent."

Miss Valentine peered around Seto, at Yugi and Rebecca standing behind him. Seto followed her gaze. Yugi's hands were in his pockets, and he mostly stared at the ground. Seto wondered if he hadn't been a part of sewing the order, though it seemed a little too advanced for his skills. Rebecca stood straight up, her hands clasped in front of her. Her expression read of concern.

"Who are these kids? Don't tell me _these_ are the kind of people you're hiring to sew my garments!"

"Not these two in particular, no. They're new hires in training, but they're not ready to take on such a project."

Miss Valentine clicked her tongue.

"Your business is circling the drain, Mister Kaiba. I suggest you fix it before I, and many other customers, begin to find another place to go."

"That won't be necessary, Miss Valentine," he said, abandoning the notion of calling her Mai.

This _was the woman Mokuba decided to crush on?_ Seto pondered.

Certainly, the woman was stunning. Her mile-long legs were thin and toned. Her short pewter grey skirt appeared to be business attire, to match the jacket she wore with it, but the length barely covered her. But her demeanor was entirely rude and demanding to be a young high school student's favorite teacher.

"Why don't you try your garments on, and I'll have one of the experienced tailors take a look at it."

Kissing ass was not Seto's favorite part of owning a business, but it had to be done and Noa certainly wasn't skilled enough at faking humility to do a good job of it.

"What about you? You said you're the owner here. Own up."

"I can't do that," he admitted without missing a beat. But rather than admit to his lack of tailoring experience, he decided to float all the attention to Daimon.

"The man I'm going to send out to assist you has more sewing experience than I have life experience. You'll be much better off in his hands than in mine."

Seto realized as soon as the words left his mouth and a sneer rose onto the woman's face how lewd his wording came off.

Without a word, Miss Valentine huffed into the dressing room and slammed the door. Something about the sound of her movements as she began to undress with speed interested Seto, far more than was appropriate in his work setting. To distract himself, he ushered Yugi toward the back room.

Another dressing room door opened and a man came out, piling a load of slacks into Rebecca's arms, and he let her assist him alone. Seto sidestepped the briefcase he'd left on the floor, admittedly in a vicarious position, but didn't bother to move it yet. Valentine would be out and ready in a blink, and he needed to be ready.

"Daimon, you're up."

The old toad glanced up from his work, his thick round glasses glinting in the florescent light.

"I don't know who sewed this woman's order, but we'll deal with that later. She's not happy, and I'm not going to push our customers out the door. Daimon, get out there with your tape and chalk and address her concerns."

Daimon nodded once, pushing his chair back swiftly. The man was likely irritated to be bossed around by someone he surely still saw as a snot-nosed child, but he didn't care. He wasn't interested in business to make friends.

As Daimon pulled the door open, Noa burst through the doorway in a huff. He carried half the stack of slacks Rebecca had been handed, now neatly draped over hangers. Seto watched the two men step past each other in slow motion, as Noa's right foot clipped the side of Seto's briefcase.

Seto stood only a few feet away, but couldn't seem to make his limbs move quickly enough to catch Noa as he stumbled over himself. His foot caught on the steel case, knocking it over and toppling over it onto the tile floor. He lay sprawled across the entry, his foot twisted in an unnatural direction.


	24. Chapter 24

Seto cringed at the _crack_ as Noa tumbled to the floor. His twin's eyes grew wide and his shocked expression crumpled into one of pain. Seto knelt down, holding out his arm against the workers who leapt from their seats and crowded around.

Noa pushed himself up, but winced when he tried to get his foot under himself.

"You okay, dude?" Wheeler asked.

He held out a hand for Noa to grab, but Seto pushed it away and forced himself between Wheeler crouching and Noa flat on the floor.

He pulled Noa up, sliding beneath him so all of his weight rested against Seto's side. He pulled out Noa's chair with his foot and lowered him into it gingerly. He pulled another chair up and elevated Noa's legs.

"Where does it hurt?" Seto asked, running his fingers along each of Noa's ankles in turn. When Seto's fingers fluttered over Noa's right foot he cringed and balled up his fists.

"This is _your_ fault Seto! What the hell?"

"Keep your voice down," Seto barked. "We have customers."

Seto didn't care, but he knew Noa would, and it kept him quiet aside from the occasional grunt. He ran his fingers over the area Noa complained about and gently felt along the bone. The skin was red and swollen, and the bone had an unnatural dip in it.

"You might have broken something."

"You mean _you_ might have broken something, careless jackass," he said, but quietly.

"You're the one who didn't look where you were walking. In either case, you need to have this looked at. Do you want me to call an ambulance, or do you want me to drive you?"

"I don't want your help," he said. He tried to pull back his leg, but couldn't move it an inch without wincing at the pain.

"You'll get to a doctor faster if I drive you now." And Seto wouldn't have to pay the bill for an ambulance, he thought, but didn't bring it up.

"I can't believe this. How am I—ah!" he flinched as he tried to move again. "How am I supposed to sew like this?"

"Don't worry about that right now."

"I _have_ to worry about it!" he cried, disregarding Seto's warning about his volume. "Seto, we're already behind! And that woman is angry, and we're never going to get our work done."

"That's not your concern," Seto insisted. "Stay here. I'll drive you."

Seto stood and moved to the door, picking up his briefcase on the way.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm going to pull your car around. I'll help you out the door."

"I can't leave now! There's a problem going on. I have to fix it!"

"What kind of help do you honestly think you can provide right now?"

"I—well, _you_ can't leave! We can't both be gone while that woman is pi—"

"Drop it," Seto demanded.

Daimon poked his head inside and mouthed something to Noa that Seto couldn't catch. Noa shook his head, then Daimon disappeared into the front again.

"What was that?" Seto asked.

"He asked me if we're charging to remake the suit."

"You said _no_? Who gave you the authority to make that call?"

"It was father's practice. Redoing our work comes at no charge."

"I know that, but we can't remake her entire suit for free."

"We have to if we messed up the fitting. We can't make her pay twice for our mistake."

"But we haven't discussed what the mistake even is. Why can't a little adjustment take care of the fit?"

"The woman wants what she wants, Seto. Unless you want to go out there and tell her otherwise."

"It's my job to decide these things, Noa," he said with a glare.

"Fine! Then go tell her what you want," he said crossing his arms like a child. "Just leave me here."

Seto rolled his eyes. He slammed his briefcase down on top of Noa's sewing desk. Noa flinched, but Seto ignored him and slipped into the front room.

Mai Valentine stood in front of the three-way mirror examining herself while Daimon took her measurements. Occasionally she moved in closer to the glass to inspect her makeup, or tossed her head around to fluff up her hair.

Daimon did his best to work around her movements, but eventually Seto had to speak up.

"Miss Valentine, how do you think my employee can take your measurements accurately if you can't stand still?"

The woman froze with her lips puckered out as she applied a new layer of lipstick.

"You're concerned that your clothes don't fit right but I can guarantee you my shop would not, after thirty years of experience, make such an amateur mistake as to use the wrong size pattern. We made your suit to measurements."

The woman straightened herself, her gaze sharpening as she glared at his reflection in the mirror.

"Do you _dare_ insinuate, Mister Kaiba, that it is _my_ fault your work was done poorly?"

"I will agree to admit that it is up to my employees to do their best work in taking measurements. If the tailor who measured you the first time didn't have the gall to tell you to _stand still_!" he emphasized as she began playing with her hair again, "then I take responsibility for not training them with enough volume in their lungs. However, my tailors can only work with what they're given. I can't abide by your attitude to give you a whole new product for free when both parties are partially at fault."

"So you admit that—"

"I admit that someone should have told you not to be such a ditz in front of the mirror. But the rest of the outcome is on you. We will not remake your suit for free. I know your type, and you will find something to be upset about with the next suit anyway."

Mai's eyes flared as she fumed. "What are you expecting _me_ to do about it? It was your employees who—"

"As far as the fit is concerned, your suit is not ruined. We will not charge for the cost of alterations, if you'll allow us to work with what we've already made for you."

"But the color—"

"We used exactly the fabric you chose by hand from our samples, Miss Valentine. Perhaps when we ordered a new bolt, the dye lot had changed slightly. We have no control over how our fabric suppliers make their products. As for the fabric content itself, if you feel it isn't soft enough then you might try wearing and cleaning it a few times. Or use more lotion on your hands."

"How _dare_ you!"

"We gave you exactly what you ordered, Miss Valentine. I suggest you take my offer for no-charge alterations while I'm still willing to offer it. Daimon can put down his measuring tape and instead chalk the garment as you're wearing it. You'll get it back within the week, and it should fit you like a glove, so long as you stand still while he's marking you."

"You have some nerve, Kaiba."

"You've been coming to my father's shop for some time, I believe. Isn't that correct?"

"Why should that matter?"

"Clearly you've been satisfied enough with our services and products that you decided to come back on multiple occasions. Our staff may have had some slight adjustments, but I promise you our quality control is not slipping. It is, in fact, getting tighter. Have you made a decision? Your alternative option is to settle your bill with us and find another tailoring shop willing to do the alterations."

Mai stared at him in the mirror for a long moment. Then her eyes flickered to Daimon who awaited his orders, holding a measuring tape in one hand and a flat piece of tailor's chalk in the other. Finally she sneered at Seto, but nodded to Daimon.

"Do the damn alterations."

"As you wish, miss."

"If that will be all, Miss Valentine, I must be on my way. I have an emergency to tend to."

Mai said nothing, but stared at him as he walked out the front doors.

* * *

A/N: He may have a temper, but I can't imagine a man having such a soft spot for Mokuba not having a tender side. Thank you all for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

Seto drove Noa's car to the back lot and parked it outside KC's rear exit. He entered through the back, an entrance typically only used by the delivery services bringing packages. He knelt down beside Noa, who had nothing to give him but a glare.

"I'm sorry, Noa," he whispered flatly. "I didn't mean for you to trip over my briefcase."

"Some days I wonder," he said sullenly.

Seto sneered and stood. "Don't be dramatic. I pulled the car around back. Let's go."

"What about Miss Valentine?"

"I think I've pacified her. But I'll come back after I've dropped you off and douse any remaining fires."

Seto backed the chair away that held up Noa's feet and eased them to the ground, Noa wincing throughout.

Daimon returned from the front, a skirt suit covered with a plastic garment bag in hand.

"Well done, Sir," he said, nodding in Seto's direction. "You do your father proud."

"I didn't say any of that to make the dead proud. I couldn't abide by her attitude at the cost of our time and money. Noa, lift your arms."

Seto wrapped an arm around his midsection and gingerly lifted Noa off his seat, keeping the pressure on his left leg.

"May the rest of you take a lesson from this," Seto addressed the shop. "I'm not always going to be present to clean up your mistakes. I expect you each to be able to hold your own against ill-mannered customers in regard to our policies. None of us are here to give anything away for free."

"Hold still, Seto! That hurts!"

"Now, we have something to tend to. I expect you're all capable of holding down the fort while we're out. I intend to return today, Noa likely will not. Daimon, I'm giving you precedence of authority to handle any other sensitive issues that may arise, or forward a call to my cell. The number's on the note board under the phone."

Seto realized as he was speaking that he sounded like he were giving Mokuba instructions if he were going out for an evening, reminding him to do his chores.

"They'll be fine," Noa groaned. "Can we go?"

"What happened to "I'm not going anywhere with you!"?"

"Just shut up and get me to the car."

"Atem," Seto called suddenly, as if he had surprised even himself. "I'm giving you the floor for the rest of the afternoon. Take calls, handle customers, take care of fittings."

" _Him_?" Noa complained. "I mean, no offense, Atem. You've made outstanding progress. But you're still green."

"I've made the decision, Noa. You need to accept that."

While glances were shared around the room, if there were concerns nobody voiced them.

Atem looked just as startled as Seto felt, but he nodded vigorously.

"I will not disappoint," Atem promised.

* * *

Seto dialed home while he waited at the hospital.

"Hey Seto. What's up?" Mokuba answered the phone while chewing on something.

"Hey kid. Having an early dinner?"

Seto heard Mokuba swallow over the line and grimaced.

"Just a snack. Why? Think you'll be home late again?"

"I don't know. Listen, I had to drive Noa to the hospital this afternoon."

"Is he okay?"

Seto heard the crunch of a chip and frowned. If Seto had been the injured one, Mokuba likely would have had more to say.

"He broke his ankle."

Mokuba winced. "Ouch. Hey, remember when I twisted mine and you had to help me with my paper route? That hurt, a lot. I bet he's in pain."

"Of course I remember. The nurse gave Noa some pain relievers to take the edge off, so he shouldn't be feeling too bad right now."

"How did it happen?"

"He tripped. I guess I should have found a better place to put my briefcase when I came in this afternoon."

"Maybe. Or he could have watched where he was going a little more carefully."

Seto couldn't help but chuckle. "Thanks. That's what I told him, but it just made him more angry."

"I bet. Ooh, how's he going to work with a broken ankle? Doesn't he kind of need both of his feet to sew and do fittings?"

"Of course, and it's the right side he broke. He won't be able to sew until it heals. And that means I'll have to drive him around everywhere until then, too," Seto said as he realized it.

"But isn't KC, like, buried in work right now?"

"We'll figure it out. Don't worry about that."

"Okay," Mokuba said, but the line stayed quiet a moment. "I was worried, though."

"It's just a broken bone, Mokuba. He'll be okay in a matter of weeks. In the meantime he'll have crutches, but he'll be—"

"That's not what I meant. When I heard you say 'hospital', I know you said you took Noa there, but I still got scared for a second."

"I'm sorry, Mokuba," he said, with more feeling than he'd given his apology to Noa. "I didn't mean to scare you. I suppose it's a good thing I didn't start off by telling you that _I'm_ at the hospital."

"Yeah, but… still. There's so much going on lately, I guess I'm just waiting for the next thing to go wrong. If something happened to you, Seto, I… I don't know what I'd do."

"Don't think about that. Nothing's happened to me. I'm fine."

"And it's not that I don't care about Noa!"

"I never said you didn't, little brother."

"It's just that…"

"I get what you're trying to say."

"Good," he said. "Hey, do you think this might be a good opportunity for you to teach me how to drive? You know, since Noa won't be able to anymore?"

"Even if I had the time for that right now, you won't be able to learn and apply for your license in time to help Noa get around. He'll be back on his feet in a couple of months."

"Okay, yeah. But… I was kind of just thinking about how I would be able to borrow his car."

"Better his car than mine, I suppose. It's a good thing the engine died, or mine might have left you stranded on the side of the road somewhere."

"Yeah, you need to buy a new one. Well, maybe not _new_ new, but newer. Anyway, what do you think?"

It would have been easy for Seto to restate that he didn't have the time. But the eagerness in Mokuba's voice, paired with the fact that he had been nearly begging Seto for months, made him cave.

"Okay, little one. We'll go out together this week. How does that sound?"

"Perfect! I'll have to start on my driving play list. Just a heads up, it's gonna be loud."

"No music."

"What?"

" _No music_. I won't have you driving distracted."

"Yeah, but if I _learn_ how to drive distracted, won't I be better at it when I can drive better?"

"I don't know who's been teaching you what it's like to be an adult, but you need a new instructor."

"Okay, I'll tell my big brother you said that."

"Shut up, Mokuba. Go make yourself something to eat for dinner. In fact, why don't you figure out how to make something for all three of us?"

"Uh, goodnight, Seto. Tell Noa I hope he feels better." Mokuba hung up the phone before Seto could say another word.

* * *

A/N: I'm starting to wish I hadn't decided to forgo chapter titles. I suppose I didn't expect to write as many as I have saved up getting ready to be posted. But it's getting confusing for me to keep track of each chapter when they're only numbers. Maybe I'll go back through sometime and name them… but in reality I'll probably just struggle through. Who knows?

Thank you, everyone, for putting up with my empty promises regarding my posting schedule. Thank you for reading and all the other extra goodies you've given me this week—favorites and follows and the like—and I ask for your continued patience when I get too busy to post the day I say I will!

-omgagr


	26. Chapter 26

"Am I ever going to get to see the doctor?" Noa whined for the third time since Seto had returned to the exam room with him.

Seto groaned. The padded chair in the exam room was slightly more comfortable than the plastic chairs in the waiting room, but it still wasn't doing him any favors.

He lay outstretched on the table, the paper strip beneath him rustling every time he shifted his body around. He had changed into a hospital gown while Seto was out. His bare legs were stretched out on the table. His right foot had already begun to show signs of an ugly purple bruise.

Seto couldn't expect that Noa was any more comfortable than himself, but he had to know that complaining wasn't likely to help.

Noa gave a heavy sigh. "Did Mokuba answer the phone?"

"He did."

"What did he have to say?"

"He hopes you feel better soon."

"I will, once I can see an actual doctor. The pain reliever the nurse gave me isn't strong enough."

"I'm sure it's better than nothing," Seto said, to try to curb Noa's comments.

Just as Seto was considering scouting out a vending machine with bad coffee, a nurse in floral scrubs entered the room. As bright as her outfit was, the woman slugged along like she couldn't wait to get home and put her feet up.

"Kaiba?" she called, looking up from a clipboard.

" _Finally_ ," Noa stressed.

"The doctor has asked me to bring you to another room so he can take some x-rays."

"I don't want to hobble anymore," Noa said in a tired voice.

Seto stood and gestured to his brother's foot.

"He'll need some assistance walking."

"I'll bring a wheelchair," she said in a dull voice and disappeared.

"I don't need a wheelchair," Noa complained. "I need a _doctor_."

"The wheelchair will help you get to the doctor," Seto said in a tone thick with false enthusiasm.

"Crutches would do just fine," Noa snipped.

The woman returned and unfolded the chair beside Noa. She held the chair in place while Seto worked to lower Noa into it.

The nurse pushed Noa's chair to another room and helped Noa into another seat. The room was empty. After another round of silent waiting, the doctor finally made it into the room.

The man's eyes were glued to the paper chart in his hands.

"I'm told you have a possible fractured bone, Mister Kaiba, is that correct?"

"My ankle's broken," Noa said, with a sharp glare at Seto.

Taking advantage of a moment the doctor took to study Noa's outstretched foot, Seto narrowed his eyes shaking his head.

"Don't start," he muttered quietly.

"Ahh!" Noa burst out, wincing as the doctor brushed his hand over his foot the same way Seto had.

"We'll want to take some x-rays to be sure. How did this happen?"

Noa glanced at Seto, who was still glaring back.

"I tripped," but his tone was severe.

"Can you be more specific?" the man asked, glancing between the brothers.

Seto moved forward a half-step.

"He tripped over an item I mistakingly left in his path. It was an accident."

"I see. This sort of thing happens all the time. I recommend you try to be more careful in the future," he said to Noa. "I'll be back in a moment. I need to gather my equipment."

The doctor strode out of the room.

"What was _that_?" Noa demanded when the room was empty.

"What?"

"You, just jumping in there. You made the whole ordeal sound so… trivial."

"It _is_ trivial. Perhaps the consequences aren't, but I don't understand why you're trying to spin this like I personally took a baseball bat to your leg out of malice."

"I never said that!"

"You didn't have to. It's in your tone every time you speak to me. I just didn't want you telling the doctor I'm responsible for something I didn't do to purposely hurt you."

"But you didn't try real hard to prevent it!"

"That's enough," Seto said, heading for the door, hands in the air. "I don't need to take this. Call me when you're ready for a ride home."

* * *

After a few hours and two cups of coffee that tasted worse than he'd expected, a nurse emerged from the hallway. She made her way into the waiting room where Seto sat cross legged, tapping his fingers on his knee.

"Are you Mister Seto Kaiba?" she asked as she approached him.

"I am. What's the news?"

"Your brother will be fine. However, I'm afraid we're going to have to keep him overnight. You can go home for now, and we'll call when Noa is ready for a ride home."

"Why are you keeping him?"

"He's currently still medicated for the pain, and the doctor believes it would be best if he rested a bit longer."

Seto rose from his uncomfortable chair, stretching out his back as he did so.

"We'll call you when you brother is ready for a ride home, sir."

"Fine," he said.

He said goodbye to the nurse and walked out of the lobby, the keys to Noa's car already in his hand.

* * *

Seto strode into Kaiba's Coats at ten to six in the evening. The lights to the storefront were all shut off, the room fairly dark, but the door remained unlocked. He heard voices in the back room.

"The old man let me stay late sometimes," a loud female voice sounded. "The keys are up here, but you have to take them with you when you go."

A silhouette stood out against the lights of the workroom. Seto recognized the wild shape of Atem's hair instantly.

"I'm sorry, we're closed for the night," Atem called.

"I should hope so, at this hour."

"Oh, it's you." The form of his silhouette shrugged.

"Wonderful to see you, too," Seto said. He walked past the man and into the back room.

Miss Vivian Wong, an athletic woman Seto presumed was in her upper twenties or early thirties, was the only person in the shop aside from Atem.

"Mister Kaiba," she said.

Seto couldn't tell if she sounded startled, or pleased to see him.

"Miss Wong," he greeted. "Where's Daimon?"

"He had to go home," Atem explained. "Something about a problem with his back?"

"The old man needed to get horizontal for a while," Vivian elaborated.

"I see."

"He'll probably retire soon."

"This industry is on the cusp of losing a whole generation of workers. But that's not the problem I'm concerned with right now."

"What's the problem, boss?" Vivian asked.

"Is your brother alright?"

"He'll be fine. But I'd like to know who authorized either of you to close shop."

"…It doesn't appear to be that challenging," Atem said. "We're only shutting down the steamers, and—"

"And counting down the cash register, and taking home the spare keys. This is a security issue. I didn't authorize either of you—"

"With all due respect Mister Kaiba," Vivian stepped in, "Your father authorized me. I know I'm young compared to the gentlemen I'm rubbing elbows with, but I've been working in this shop since you were in middle school. Kaiba Senior let me close up dozens of times."

" _Daimon_ is the only keyholder besides my brother and myself. He should have been here, or he should have shuffled the rest of you out and locked up."

"He was in a lot of pain, Sir," Atem defended. "Even asking him to close out the cash register would have been a lot to ask after his back went out."

"I suppose I could have given him one of my famous Wong Family treatments like I did last time," Vivian offered. "He didn't sound like he was up for it, though."

Seto glared at the woman.

"Unless you're a certified chiropractor, don't kick my employees."

Atem flashed a puzzled look.

"She performed a "treatment" on him once that she swears is supposed to heal back problems."

"And he said he hadn't felt that free of pain in years!"

"It lasted less than an hour."

"Treatment is supposed to be re-administered."

Seto rolled his eyes. "I said no."

"You're so "by-the-book", Mister Kaiba."

"I have to be."

"Relax once in a while, huh?"

She took a moment to sling her bag over her shoulder, pausing to blow him a kiss.

Seto stared at the woman as she headed for the door, finding himself feeling stunned. She was, after all, a very striking woman.

"Goodbye Atem. Goodbye Seto." She stroked his shoulder as she passed him.

Seto was certain it was meant as a platonic gesture, but he wondered if it might have been more as he watched her leave.

When he returned his attention to the room, he noticed Atem's intense stare. His eyes flashed a burning challenge at Seto.

"This can't count as a third strike," Atem declared.

"Can't it?" Seto countered. "Who makes the rules in this game?"

* * *

A/N: Personally, I've always loved Vivian Wong. I know she only had a short appearance during the Grand Prix episodes, but I love the way she asserted herself on Seto and Yugi. She's beautiful and gutsy, the kind of girl I always pictured Seto to want to be with.


	27. Chapter 27

" _This can't count as a third strike," Atem declared._

" _Can't it?" Seto countered. "Who makes the rules in this game?"_

Seto took another step into the room. "I truly hope you aren't under the delusion that it might be _you_."

"Of course not," Atem said. "But I never touched the register, or the keys. If anything, it was your employee who mislead me. Even more, _your_ laid back security updates that led her to believe she was in the right by showing me the keys, simply because your father would have let her."

Seto stared at Atem. The attitude from a subordinate appalled him, but he had to admit he liked the challenge. By the evidence, Atem was in the right, so long as he was telling the truth.

Seto checked behind him, and noted that the keys remained on their hook inside the cabinet.

"I refuse to admit that I'm in the wrong for trying to protect my business. This shop is my family's security, and it's my responsibility to defend it."

"I understand that."

"But if you do earn your third strike in the future, you will not be allowed to argue your way out of it. Don't think that just because you've made some strides here that you're not still on thin ice with me."

"Fine. I'll take on your challenge, even though you're expecting me to play by rules you won't tell me until I've broken them."

"I don't know what kind of pampered upbringing you've had, but in my experiences, that's just how life works."

"I'm sorry you feel the need to look at the world that way, Kaiba." Atem flashed a sad smile.

"I have to shut down the register. I'd prefer it if you stayed until I'm finished." Without waiting for a response, Seto went into the front room.

"So you can blame me for stealing in the event that you've counted wrong?" Atem called.

Seto opened the cash register with a small key. He pulled out the tray and carried it back to Noa's desk and sat down to count.

"If you want to look at it that way, then yes."

Atem gave a frustrated growl and plopped back in a chair.

"I hope you've clocked out, if you're just going to sit there," Seto said. He glanced up in time to catch Atem rolling his eyes.

"You don't have to worry about it."

A few minutes passed in silence, aside from the clatter of coins and the click of calculator buttons.

"Did anything happen after I left that I need to know about?"

Atem sat up straighter.

"I don't want to distract you while you count."

"This is child's addition. You couldn't distract me if you tried."

"Miss Valentine came back."

"Now what? Is she _aiming_ to create problems?"

"No. She wants us to complete another order for her."

"She'll be paying for it. Does she know that?"

"This is unrelated to the first order. She even promised to stand still for the measurements."

"I'm not sure we want any more of her business, but I'm not in a position to turn away paying customers."

"But there is a slight issue with the date she needs the item by."

" _Slight_? There's either an issue, or there isn't."

"She's willing to pay the rush fee, but she needs another garment made by the end of the month."

"We don't have enough hands to get that done, rush fee or not. Did anyone tell her that?"

"Daimon tried. He was very respectful."

"Daimon is _too_ respectful. No one in this shop is willing to put these clients in their places."

"I wonder if you would have, either."

"What are you talking about?"

"She had agreed to stand still, but didn't say it apologetically. She's still very upset about her previous order, and she knew you had left."

"So?"

"She's Mokuba's teacher, isn't she?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"She seemed to have returned with an attitude that we owe her, and she has power over you."

"So, if we don't give her what she wants, she's going to take it out on my little brother. Did she say as much?"

"She wouldn't stop hinting that running a family business must be stressful for you, and for Mokuba. Then she went on about his grades, and how it would be a shame if they slipped due to the stress."

Seto put away his calculator and rubbed at his forehead.

"She can't do that."

"It sounded like she believed otherwise."

"Then we'll just have to make certain that Miss Valentine's order comes out perfectly, won't we?"

"I suppose that would be the solution."

Seto returned the tray of money to the cash register and locked it. Atem followed him to the front.

"If you want to start earning my favor," Seto said, "you'll assist with this order. Even if you don't do the work personally, you have an eye for style that not everyone in this shop possesses. I want you overseeing the project. It may interrupt your work or slow down your output, but I'll overlook that."

"I can assist, if that is your wish."

Seto nodded. He glanced at the windows, noting how dark it was getting.

"The drawer came out perfectly—to the penny, even. I guess Wheeler didn't hand out any change today."

"Then I guess this isn't my third strike after all," Atem said with a smirk.

"Not this time."

Seto gestured to the front doors and followed Atem out, locking the door behind him.

* * *

A/N: This update was meant to be longer, but the next part is ready to go for later in the week, likely Thursday.

I don't want to call this story on hiatus. I will get back on track. But, in case anyone didn't see my Author's Notes on my profile, October and November will be very busy for me, so I will no longer be promising any consistent schedule.

I recently started my own venture. The tailoring shop I work in only reflects the back half of Kaiba's Coats. Mine doesn't sell anything, services only. However, this month I'm branching out on my own to make and sell suits myself. I'm _so_ excited! I'm also going on a trip the second half of the month. Then, November is NaNoWriMo, and I _will_ be participating.

All of that being said, I expect things to get a little hectic from here. But no fear. I would never begin posting a story I couldn't say with confidence that I will finish.

A note to Wolf'sVine: I so much appreciate the encouraging words! (and cool name!) Thank you so much for the review.

See you all later in the week!

-omagr


	28. Chapter 28

Seto parked Noa's car in the garage. Mokuba sat on the cement steps leading up to the back door, an open paperback book draped over his knee. The cordless phone sat on the step beside him.

"Hey kid." Seto greeted as he peeled himself from Noa's low-riding car. "Have you been waiting here long?" The slam of the car door echoed in the hollow garage.

"It started getting dark. I got kinda worried. How's Noa? Isn't he with you?"

"No. They wanted to hold him overnight."

"Oh."

Seto gestured to the door, and Mokuba led them inside.

"I wonder if the food is okay," Mokuba said. "Does he need anything? Pajamas, his own pillow, maybe a snack?"

"I didn't ask."

"Why not?"

"I just didn't think to." He carried his briefcase to the kitchen table, setting it down on a chair. "We weren't having the most pleasant discussion."

"Oh," Mokuba repeated. "When will he be able to come home?"

"They'll call tomorrow."

Mokuba set his book down on the table and sat down at the head, where Seto typically did his own school work.

Mokuba's backpack was flopped carelessly on the tabletop, and what appeared to be its entire contents, mostly colored folders and textbooks, were sprawled across nearly half the table. Seto picked up a worksheet with example cartoons of kinetic energy, and a list of questions below.

Mokuba had started to answer the first—incorrectly, Seto noted—but didn't get any further.

"You evidently have a lot of homework you haven't finished."

"I'm sorry," he said. Mokuba's gaze seemed to flick from the pile of work to something on the floor.

"This has really thrown off your night, hasn't it?"

Mokuba looked up and gave a weak smile.

"I tried to get it done. I just couldn't concentrate. I got most of my math done, _before_ you called, but most of that's probably wrong anyway."

"I doubt that," he said, picking up the notebook labeled "Algebra II" and paging through it. "What did you do for the rest of the evening?"

Mokuba shrugged, glancing around the room. "I had a snack. Read a chapter. I talked on the phone a little."

"On the phone? You wouldn't have happened to be talking with Serenity, would you?"

Mokuba didn't answer, but flashed a sheepish grin that was response enough.

"Have you asked her out?"

The grin vanished. "No, not yet."

"Nervous?"

A nod.

"Then take your time. Just keep in touch with her like you have been, and you'll find a place to work it in."

"I keep trying, but every time I think I have the nerve, the conversation doesn't flow right. Every time I find a good opportunity to change the subject, I can't get the nerve."

"You're a Kaiba, little brother. You said it yourself, Kaiba's don't quit."

"I know. We're born with nerves of steel," he said monotonously, like he'd repeated the line so many times it had lost its meaning. "Some days I feel like that gene skipped over me."

"Keep trying. It'll work out."

Seto gave another glance at Mokuba's pile of homework, and tried not to think about his own schoolwork piling up.

"I understand you can't realistically finish all this before your classes tomorrow."

"Nope."

"You know I don't condone procrastination."

"I'm sorry, Seto," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I told you, I couldn't concentrate."

"I understand, Mokuba. I can help you prioritize. Show me how much of this is due for your afternoon classes tomorrow."

"But, why? I need to work on my morning classwork first."

"Just do as I asked."

Without further argument, Mokuba shuffled around his papers and folders until he had a neat stack of four folders, two textbooks, a thick packet of stapled pages, and two spiral notebooks. The rest he set aside, disorganized.

"That's still a lot of work," Seto said, picking up the stapled packet and thumbing through it. Most of the pages were already filled out. "Do you think you can manage it if you had time between now and after lunch tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I think so, if I _had_ time. But I'll be in my morning classes."

"Tell you what." Seto slapped the pile of papers down on the table. "I'll call your school and excuse you from the early half of your day. You can come with me to visit with Noa while they finish up with him, and you can work on this while we're waiting. I'll take you back to school after lunch."

Mokuba heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks, bro. Then I'll be able to turn in the work for my morning classes the day after."

"That's the idea. Tell me which classes you have before lunch."

Mokuba scratched his head. "Algebra, World History, gym class, and Physical Science."

"I gather you don't have to worry about homework for gym?"

"Of course not."

"You said your math is complete."

"Mostly."

" _Mostly_ is still better than a zero."

"I guess so."

"Then you have less that you'll have to double up on tomorrow night."

"It'll still be a lot of work."

"For certain. I'm only helping you this once, because of circumstances beyond your control. I still expect you to work hard and keep your grades up if you still expect to go to New York. Understand?"

Mokuba paused a moment, as if contemplating the agreement. He stared at the pile of work on the table.

"Think you can do that?"

"I'll have to, won't I?"

Seto reached out and squeezed the boy's shoulder. "This is nothing. You've got this. Now, do what you still can tonight, then get to sleep. We'll leave after breakfast in the morning."

* * *

While Seto browned potatoes and onions in a skillet with one hand, he dialed the phone with the other and waited for someone to pick up.

A woman with a sharp voice answered the phone.

"You've reached the Domino High School office. How may I direct your call?"

"I'm the guardian of a student, and I need to have him excused from his morning classes. Who do I need to speak to about that?"

"The administrator is out today, and I'm stepping in until classes begin. What's the child's name?"

"Mokuba Kaiba, sophomore."

" _Kaiba?_ " the woman hissed. "Am I speaking with Seto?"

"You are," Seto answered, his gut sinking as he recognized the woman's shrill voice. She sounded different over the phone, but still angry.

"I see. I teach a class your charge attends in the mornings. You'll be pulling him from his third period physical education class?"

"I'll be dropping him off after lunch."

"I'm afraid we're having an examination this morning. Absence cannot be excused."

"A member of our immediate family is in the hospital. You'll just have to reschedule his exam."

"I'm sorry, Mister Kaiba. The entire class will be participating together. A sort of team-building exercise. It will be heavily graded."

"Mokuba said nothing about that. Was this scheduled, or is this something spontaneous?" he asked, not trying to hide the skepticism in his tone.

"I'm sad to hear that your student's communication skills aren't as strong as Domino's teachers encourage."

"Then you'll have to give him some way to make up the grade. He's not coming in this morning."

"I'm not sure what I can do about that. Phy. Ed. classes aren't typically structured around the ability to give extra credit assignments. He'll just have to make sure he works extra hard the rest of the semester to make up for it."

"Are you planning to tell the same thing to any other children who wind up absent today?"

"The rules are the rules, Mister Kaiba. But I'll be sure to let the rest of Mokuba's morning teachers know he won't be in. Thank you for calling."

She hung up the phone before Seto could respond. Mokuba came down the stairs the next moment.

"That smells so good," he said, leaning over the frying pan and inhaling deeply.

"Good morning to you, too."

As if remembering himself, Mokuba reached out for a half-hug, eying up the vegetables the whole time.

"Do you know anything about an obstacle course examination at school today?"

"No. Is there someone coming in to inspect equipment, or something?"

"No. I just called your school and spoke to the gym teacher. She said there's a team-building examination that's worth a good portion of your grade."

"And she called it an 'obstacle course examination'? That doesn't even make sense. They've never done anything like that before. Our grades are mostly based on participation. Even a wiry kid like me can't fail gym if I show up."

"She put the blame on you for not telling me about it."

Mokuba stepped back from the stove.

"She never talked about that! She said this was happening _today_?"

"Yes."

"And I'm going to miss it."

"I suppose now is as good a time as any to let you know that we've been having a bit of difficulty with Miss Valentine at Kaiba's Coats. She was in twice yesterday. Once while Noa had his accident, and again after I took him to the hospital. She is, in my view, unjustly upset about something we can control, but she doesn't want to let us fix it."

"That's not fair. You think she's taking it out on me now?"

"The woman is clearly using what's happening at KC to interfere with your education." Seto poured a bowl of scrambled eggs over the vegetables and watched them sizzle and dance. "I refuse to accept her conduct. I'll be calling someone over her head to discuss the situation."

Mokuba didn't appear nearly as interested in breakfast. "So she's making up some bogus activity and saying it's worth a bunch of points just because I won't be there today?"

"It sounded like something she made up on the spot. When you get to school this afternoon, I encourage you to talk to your classmates about it. Get whatever information you can."

Seto stirred around the contents of the pan until the eggs were cooked, then set a plate in front of Mokuba at the table.

"Still think she's so hot?"

"Well, sure," Mokuba shrugged. "That doesn't mean I have to like her. If she's this irritated about me missing half a day, what's she going to say when we get to New York?"

"We'll worry about that when we see how other factors play out. For now, just eat your breakfast."

Mokuba nodded, stabbing a small bite of egg and potato, and nibbling at it until his fork was clean.

* * *

A/N: This might be my last update for a couple weeks. I could be wrong. I'm probably not. My apologies. I'll be delighted to return to everyone at the end of the month, and thank you as always for supporting me!

-omgagr


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: Here we go! Thank you for your patience, everyone!

-omg

* * *

Seto trudged through the long white hospital hallways, pausing once at a nurse's station to ask for directions. Mokuba tagged along closely behind him. He lugged his backpack full of books on one shoulder, a teenager clearly too cool to care about using the item correctly.

When they reached a tiny room at the end of one hall, Seto opened the door without knocking.

Noa lay on a bed under pale blue sheets. The florescent lights over his head were dimmed, but not completely off. Noa turned his head as Seto entered.

"You're here early. I don't think they're ready to let me go yet."

"I know," Seto said as he strode into the room.

Mokuba crept in behind him and found the chair nearest Noa's bed, dropping his backpack on it.

"Can I hug you?" Mokuba asserted before the twins could say another word.

Noa pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing slightly.

"It's my ankle that's broken, not my back. Why couldn't you?"

Without hesitation, Mokuba dove in and wrapped his arms around Noa's torso.

"Don't be so technical. You're just like Seto," he said with his face buried in Noa's shoulder.

Noa's brows furrowed, but Mokuba squeezed until Noa gave a little cough.

"Easy, kid. What's gotten into you?"

Mokuba pulled away and reached for his backpack. He picked it up and sat down, setting it on his lap. When he turned his face up, he dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve.

"Sorry. Just overwhelmed, I guess."

Noa nodded. "What's with the backpack?"

"I have some homework to catch up on," he said, unzipping the bag.

"Oh? Why is that?" Noa asked, but his eyes were on Seto.

"Like he said," Seto defended, "He's been overwhelmed. He couldn't work last night."

Mokuba didn't say another word while he rummaged through his bag and began to set out his homework. He pulled a small cell phone from the pocket of his jeans, set it on the arm of his chair, and got to work.

Seto settled into another seat, closer to the door. Noa began a barrage of questions directed at Seto, nearly entirely related to Kaiba's Coats.

Shortly after, a nurse came in with a tray of food. She set it over Noa's bed.

Mokuba turned the page in his notebook, but set it down on the floor.

"Seto, can I have some coffee?" he asked. "I saw a vending machine on the way in."

"Since when do you drink coffee?" Noa asked.

Mokuba shrugged.

"Only if you bring me a cup," Seto said.

"'Kay," he said and slipped out the door.

The twins were silent a moment once the door clicked shut. Seto shifted, fidgeting with the key to Noa's car.

"I'd like to take the time you're recovering to borrow your car," Seto said. "It's the only way I can save up to buy myself a set of wheels."

Noa didn't answer.

When Seto glanced up, Noa was playing with a phone in his hand.

"Is that Mokuba's?"

"So?" Noa asked, but the word had a bite to it.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

Seto's own line came to mind, and it occurred to him that he didn't know what Noa's "nothing" face looked like. He didn't know how to tell if his own twin was lying.

"Put it down."

Noa ignored him, the edges of his mouth curled up as he stared at the screen of the tiny flip-phone.

Seto checked the hallway through the window beside the door.

"Now. Before he comes back."

"What does it matter? We're all sharing our things now, aren't we?"

"You're disgustingly selfish," he said, standing up. "Not everything in our family circles around _you_."

He reached for the device only to have Noa jerk it out of range.

"I need a car and you can't drive," Seto said, his voice strained as he stretched across Noa's bed. "How long did the doctor tell you to stay immobilized?"

He arched over Noa's chest and grabbed his arm with both hands, twisting it until the phone was in reach. He squeezed Noa's hand until the phone dropped onto the bed. Seto snatched it up before Noa could. When Seto peered at the screen, Mokuba's contacts were up and open to Serenity's phone number. Seto scrutinized the screen.

"Six weeks," Noa growled, crossing his arms and glaring out the window.

"But you can't bear to part with petty toys you think belong to you," Seto finished, closing the phone.

"I just think it's cute, you know?" he shrugged, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone as he ignored Seto's claim. "Mokuba dating. Who would have thought we'd ever see the day?"

"Don't make me break your other ankle," Seto threatened under his breath as the door creaked open.

"This is hard to do with no hands," Mokuba said with a laugh, nudging the door open with his shoulder. He stopped in the doorway, eyes on his phone in Seto's hand. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Seto said, confident in his even voice. He traded the phone in his hand for one of the coffees Mokuba fought to juggle. "Put it away while you do your homework."

"Yes, sir."

Seto turned back to Noa. "Six weeks? I'll be sure to remember you said that."

* * *

Noa returned to the front lobby where Seto waited. A nurse walked by his side, a small brown bag in her hand, as Noa hobbled on two crutches across the room. A large boot was strapped around his right foot.

Noa wouldn't make eye contact as he moved toward Seto at a snail's pace. The nurse stepped around Noa and approached Seto.

"Are you Mister Kaiba's ride home?" she asked.

Seto spared a glance at Noa.

"I suppose so."

She handed Seto the bag, which rattled when he dropped his arm to his side.

"His medicine?"

"Yes. There are instructions on the prescription card inside." She patted Noa's shoulder. "Have a good trip home, Noa. Stay safe."

Seto eyed his twin with irritation as he corralled his brothers out of the hospital.


	30. Chapter 30

_Previously, on… this fanfic:_

 _We left Noa with a broken ankle, and two twins wrestling in a hospital bed over a phone that belonged to neither of them._

 _I promise, guys, this is going somewhere._

* * *

"I want to stop at KC," Noa said as he struggled to walk out of the hospital.

"For what?"

"I need to check in."

"I need to get Mokuba back to school."

Noa peeked into the back seat. "Mokuba doesn't mind missing a couple extra class periods. Do you, buddy?"

"I don't love that pet name," Mokuba muttered. "Seto, how many class periods am I excused from?"

"Only until after lunch."

"You'll be fine," Noa said. "I won't take that long. I just want to check in with the team."

Seto glanced at Mokuba through the rear view mirror. Mokuba peered back, making eye contact, and eventually shrugged. Seto put the car in gear.

* * *

"Want me to sign your cast?" Joseph asked with a grin, wielding his seam ripper as if it were a pen.

Noa leaned on his crutch and playfully shoved his arm away. "I don't need to be a walking Joseph Wheeler billboard, thanks."

Seto crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

"You said Miss Valentine is acting as administrator today. If I miss more classes than you said, do you think she'll make a big deal out of it?"

"Let's not try and find out."

Seto reached in his pocket and pulled out a debit card. "But I'll tell you what. Just to make sure, let's make this little detour work in our favor. Go down to the bistro and order some sandwiches for everyone. We'll make this your lunch period, too."

"Employees, too? That's cool. Okay."

After making the rounds to take everyone's order, Mokuba disappeared out the front. He returned several minutes later with two large paper bags of wrapped sandwiches.

Seto plucked two from a bag, passing one to Atem and keeping the other for himself.

"Mokuba, do me a favor and keep Noa occupied. I'm going to eat out front."

"'Kay. But remember we're on a time-crunch."

Seto nodded, but turned toward Atem.

"Join me outside, please," Seto said, though his tone suggested it wasn't a request.

Atem followed Seto's wide strides to the front tables in the midday sunshine.

"I appreciate you buying lunch," he said, pulling up a chair. "Are you sure you don't mind if I sit here?"

"I said as much, didn't I?"

"You did. I'm just a little surprised. You don't usually come off as this welcoming," Atem said with a chuckle.

Seto pushed the chair out with his foot. "Please," he dismissed. "You're far less an irritation than the company I've kept the past twenty-four hours. And I haven't even been with him all that time."

"I'm flattered."

"It's not a big compliment."

Atem chuckled again. "I know."

"Noa wanted to come by to check on the shop. But he's too emotionally attached. I expect Daimon to sugar-coat his responses to cater to Noa's feelings. I'm not wired that way. I'd like to know what's really going on today."

Atem's pleasant expression faltered.

"There have been a few issues since you were here last night."

" _Please_ don't tell me Mai Valentine came back again."

"Nothing to do with her."

"Then what is it now?"

"Another client. I believe you'll have a phone call to make, when you get the opportunity."

"I'd like to decide that for myself, thanks."

"It's Daimon's suggestion."

"Somebody upset about the fit of their garment?"

"Crawford. He's demanding his order finished two weeks sooner than the deadline. He said he's traveling earlier than he'd planned."

"That isn't our problem. We can't accommodate that," Seto said, setting down his sandwich.

"He refused to take 'no' for an answer. He was irritatingly optimistic about it, though. He didn't seem to think we would have a problem accomplishing such a feat."

Seto scoffed. "That sounds like him."

While Seto silently pondered his plan of action, Joseph came through the door, toting his lunch.

Joseph plopped his sandwich down on the table between Seto and Atem, then walked over to the second cafe table. He dragged a metal chair across the concrete with such a screeching noise that Seto cringed, having to place a hand over his ear to dull the piercing sound.

"Thanks a lot for lunch, Boss," Joseph said, plopping down.

Seto's irritation refused to fade. He suddenly began to find everything the blond did repulsive, from the tone of his voice to the sound of his chewing, and even the erratic tapping of his foot on the sidewalk.

Seto tried his best to tune him out. He placed as much of his focus on his lunch as he could and allowed Joseph to swoop in on the conversation he'd nearly begun with Atem.

Though Seto was repulsed by Joseph's adept skill level of talking and eating simultaneously, he found himself thankful that Joseph was the first to finish his lunch.

"I suppose I oughtta get back to work," he said. He leaned back and stretched his arms over his head, then let out a long, loud belch.

Seto grimaced, but said nothing as the man got up and left.

He found Atem staring at him, and Seto placed his sandwich on his wrapper.

"What?" Seto asked, feeling as though he'd missed something that was said to him.

Though Joseph had gone, Seto found his irritation hadn't dissipated.

Atem shook his head, appearing confused. "I didn't say anything." Then he grinned and huffed a sort of exasperated laugh. "He's a good man, but talks a little too much for me to keep up with sometimes. I've been learning to let him carry on on his own. He eventually gets the point."

"Would you say his hands slow down when his mouth is moving?" Seto asked, finding himself searching for anything to use against the man.

Atem only laughed. "Absolutely not. His mouth never stops moving. He must have learned early on in his life how to multi-task in that regard."

Seto nodded, no longer interested in the discussion.

"Is Noa doing well?" Atem asked.

"He'll be fine."

"That's good to hear."

The conversation dwindling, Atem began packing up his lunch. But when he'd balled up his garbage, he didn't move from the table.

"Yugi and I were wondering—well, this isn't at all work related, and actually I question how appropriate it is to even propose…"

Seto's interest was piqued, and he leaned inward, intent on listening to the young man's next words.

"Go ahead," Seto prompted when Atem still hesitated.

"Well, we were wondering if we might be able to have a few practice duels with Mokuba before the tournament. If he's interested, that is."

"That sounds like a ploy to gain an unfair advantage."

He sat back in his chair, hooking one arm leisurely around the back of it. His anticipation has vanished, and he felt less engaged than he had expected.

"I don't see how. We've played each other many times before. And I've heard Mokuba purchased his own deck for the tournament, so his strategies would be completely different with a new set of cards. My cousin and I were only hoping to offer Mokuba a few more opportunities to practice. We thought it would serve as a help."

Seto pondered the proposal.

"I suppose you would have to ask him. If he's comfortable with the idea, and as long as it doesn't take precedence over his schoolwork, then I won't argue the point."

"Of course it won't. The Turtle would be happy to see him any evening this week, after he's completed his homework of course."

"I'll ask him, and if he's game for it I'll drop him off."

Atem nodded with a smile. He rose from the table and tossed away his trash, thanking Seto once before returning to the shop.

While he watched Atem walk away, Seto began to understand the source of his irritation as it dissolved, and a wave of disappointment slowly crept in.

Before the door closed completely, the bell rang again and a mop of dark hair poked out.

"Seto, we have to go!" Mokuba hissed. "I'm gonna be late for class!"

Seto flicked his wrist up and checked his watch. He still had enough time to get Mokuba to school if traffic didn't fight him, and if they left… two minutes ago.

"Sorry," he said casually, throwing away the last two bites of his lunch. "Let's get moving."

Seto pulled the door open wide and tried to step inside, but Mokuba blocked the way.

"'Sorry'? What is that supposed to mean? You said you would be right back. I was waiting for you!"

"Mokuba, calm down."

"Miss Valentine is going to have my head on a platter, thanks to you!"

"She is not. She's being unreasonable anyway. I'll explain what happened when we get there. I'll even call the real administrator tomorrow if I have to. Let's get moving." He pointed to the shop, over Mokuba's shoulder. "I need to grab my keys."

Mokuba rolled his eyes at Seto and spun around with a huff, letting Seto step past him into the storefront.

"I hope your conversation was _really_ important," Mokuba spat.

Seto stopped walking. He turned back to face his brother, feeling a pang of guilt. He knew it hadn't been, and he suspected Mokuba did as well. He silently chastised himself for not paying closer attention to the clock.

For getting too distracted by his company.

"I hope it was worth whatever punishment Miss Valentine has in store for me," Mokuba said, his tone thick with anger.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: Guys… guys… they're making a _movie_. A movie! (You can't hear how loud I'm squealing through your internet. For anyone who hasn't heard, YGO: Dark Side of Dimensions is a thing. It comes out on the 27th of January. Although in my area it doesn't start until the 28th.) If you want to hear me blabber on about this even more, there're notes on my profile.

Anyway, I've been working super hard to get some content out in celebration for this awesome event. I seriously could not be more excited. To help you understand, here's a completely non-movie-related chapter! I hope you enjoy. There's more to come.

-omgagr

* * *

Seto drove consistently over the speed limit to make up for lost time, though he watched carefully for speed traps and changing lights. He pulled up to the school's front doors, a bell ringing just as Mokuba climbed out of the car.

"I hope that's not the second bell," Mokuba muttered.

"Grab your bag!" Seto called, reaching in the back seat and holding it out to him.

The ride had been silent, but whatever anger Mokuba still held toward Seto seemed to disappear as he reached for the bag in Seto's hand.

"I gotta go!" Mokuba said with a wave, and dashed off into the building.

Seto didn't pull away from the curb immediately, but watched the clock on the Civic's dash.

"What are you doing?" Noa complained.

"Waiting."

When the clock read that two minutes had passed, another bell sounded, and Seto breathed a sigh of relief.

"Providing that he made it to his classroom by now, he's not late. Even if he winds up with a tardy at least he won't miss anything crucial."

"That's great. Can we go home now?"

Seto flashed a glare at Noa. "You're the one who felt it was so necessary to stop at KC. I would have gotten him back early if it weren't for you."

Noa returned the glare. "If you hadn't gotten so caught up in your conversation, it wouldn't have been a problem."

Seto put the car in drive and jerked the wheel to make a drastic U-turn.

"Watch it!" Noa cried as he was slammed back in his seat.

Once again, the car ride fell silent.

* * *

When the twins reached their aging three-story home, Seto tried not to think about the upkeep it needed as he parked in the garage and unloaded Noa's crutches from the trunk. He opened the passenger door and forced himself to have patience enough to offer him a hand.

Noa pushed the hand away and hoisted himself with difficulty out of the car. With his crutches, he took the cement steps into the house gingerly. He paused in the living room, as if contemplating settling in. But he moved on to his own room down the hall, Seto following behind.

He realized it must have been a while since the last time he'd seen the inside of his twin's room—not that he had much of a reason to. The room was very telling of Noa's personality. There wasn't much for traditional furniture save for the bed and a wide dresser, and a small antique nightstand beside the bed.

Noa stopped in front of his bed and found a way to twist until he could sit down on the edge. Sewing catalogs and men's clothing magazines were spread across the foot of Noa's bed, alongside a few piles of fabric and an old box of spools. Noa eyed the items.

Without a word, Seto pushed the magazines into a pile so Noa would have somewhere to put his feet. Then he began gathering up fabric and placed it on top of an old sewing desk sitting against one wall,

It felt odd that Noa would even need fabric in his room. Seto had seen Noa use the old treadle sewing machine folded neatly underneath the lid of the desk. But he knew Noa performed most of his home-sewing in their father's studio on the third floor, across the hall from Gozaburos' office and above what was now Seto's room.

Seto glanced at his twin, but Noa didn't seem to notice his gaze as he gently lifted his legs onto the bed. When the items were moved Seto took away Noa's crutches and leaned them against the wall within his reach. He set up an extra pillow from his closet for him to prop up his feet.

"It's fortunate my room's on the ground level," Noa commented as he adjusted himself on his bed. "I won't have to use the stairs for anything."

"If it were the other way around I would have switched rooms with you," Seto said. "Or helped you set up in the living room at least."

"Something tells me you're not saying that to prove how nice you are."

Seto shrugged. "It just makes sense." He didn't add that he'd do it to stop Noa from complaining any more than necessary.

Seto stood in the middle of Noa's room, which had, at one point a number of years before, been Mokuba's nursery, until he was old enough to sleep in his own bed and Noa asked their parents if he could trade with the toddler.

He had always imagined that Noa thought he was giving Seto the short end of the deal, but even back then Seto had been glad to make the trade for his baby brother to be closer to him, instead of Noa.

Before that, Seto could remember in his younger years when their mother was alive, when she would tend to the baby while she went about her business, mostly in the kitchen. But he shook himself out of his reverie before it really began. He couldn't let himself get caught up in that. Not now.

"Do you need anything else?" Seto asked.

He picked up a bottle of Noa's pills and checked the instructions. He wouldn't need another dose for a few hours.

"Do we have dinner plans?"

"No, but I can make something. I'll look in the refrigerator."

But Seto didn't move, instead leaning back against Noa's dresser.

"Do _you_ need something?"

Seto crossed his arms and steeled himself for war.

"I want to talk to you about New York."

Noa gave pause, then nodded, his face stern.

"I've never been," Noa said. "But it seems like a nice place to visit. Maybe someday we can go. Do you remember that Father lived there for college?"

"I do. But you know what I'm talking about, and you're avoiding it."

Noa blinked innocently at his twin but didn't answer.

"Mokuba wants this, for far more than just recreation."

Noa sighed, then reached for one of the sewing catalogs and began paging through it.

"Don't you think he socializes enough with those geeky friends of his?"

"It's not about that, either," Seto said, a note of irritation in his voice. "It's about the prize money. I think with a little coaching, he has a real chance to take home some winnings, even if he doesn't win first place."

"What does he need the cash for? You and I pay all the bills."

"I pay all the bills. Whatever you kick forward is a result of what I pay you."

Noa scowled. "But _I_ work way harder at KC than you do, so don't give me that."

"Whatever," he said.

Seto's managerial skills were what kept the business afloat, and to Seto seemed worth far more than a tailor's wage. But he didn't say anything, not wanting to open up that argument.

"This is not the point. He's not trying to pay the bills. He wants to go to college."

Noa let out a bark of laughter, but it died when Seto didn't join in. "You're serious? Have you seen his grades? He's _not_ college material."

Seto stood up straight. "That's not your place to claim," he said with a warning tone. "As for his grades, he's working on it. He's a sophomore, so he still has time to make up for his C's and D's last year. And maybe he hasn't built up the best habits, but the past two semesters especially weren't entirely his fault."

"I don't see him trying very hard to correct the issue."

"Father died less than a year ago. If Mokuba's grades have suffered as a result of readjusting to his new life as an _orphan_ , why should he be reprimanded?"

Noa flinched as Seto spoke, but dodged the question.

"You'll go to some pretty extreme lengths to excuse him for the fact that he'd rather waste his time and money on gaming."

"May I remind you that you stood up for Mokuba's recreation—or pretended to, anyway—as a means to rope me into keeping Father's precious shop? Which I did, _begrudgingly_ , only for the financial security of this family."

"But when his game starts taking up _our_ resources, he should find something better to do with his time instead."

"You think he should have to give up something he loves, and is skilled at? What do _you_ think he should be doing instead?"

"He should be doing a better job of focusing on his homework or—I don't know—learning how to cook a meal or wash a cup?"

Seto stepped forward and leaned in menacingly. "Are you calling my little brother lazy?"

"He's not just _your_ brother, and he _is_ lazy."

"If I'm the only one putting in the time to try to teach him good habits instead of ignoring him all the time unless he does something wrong, then I'm the only one who gets to claim him. The _point_ is that I want this opportunity for him."

"And you really think he can win? Against, I'm guessing, national competitors?"

"He's been playing this game casually for years, and going up against two of our region's best players on a regular basis. It's not like he's going into it blind."

"So what? Is he any good?"

"We're working on it."

"When is this tournament?" There was a bite to Noa's voice.

"Less than a month from now. It falls a few weeks before the end of the school year."

"I don't see how you can justify it. I can list at least half a dozen reasons why it's a bad idea."

Seto clenched his fists. Suddenly the ceramic figurine of a Victorian sewing machine atop Noa's dresser felt like it would look much nicer shattered across the floor, and Seto stuffed his fists into the pockets of his slacks to keep himself from lashing out.

"I'm justifying it by giving Mokuba a chance to chase his dreams. Maybe borrowing someone else's is good enough for you, but personally I want more out of my life, and Mokuba does too."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Noa demanded, leaning forward until he winced, and forced himself to relax.

"Why should I teach him to back down out of fear? Or that if he's going against the odds it's not worth fighting at all? If that's the kind of sap you want to teach him how to be, I don't want any part in it."

"But we can't afford a trip like that for a slim chance."

Seto gritted his teeth. "Right now Mokuba is teetering on the edge of feeling good enough to try, and settling for whatever is easy. I want more for him. He wants more for himself."

He wanted to bring up Mokuba's cell phone and demand why Noa was messing with it, but knew he had to back out before he lost control of his anger. He whirled around and made to leave Noa's room, but stopped in the doorway and threw a glance at his twin.

"For a Kaiba, you have a pretty piss-poor attitude toward determination and setting goals. I will _not_ teach Mokuba to back down."

Seto slammed Noa's bedroom door harder than he'd meant to, but not half as hard as he'd wanted to.

"Where the _hell_ is the money coming from, Seto?" Noa shouted through the closed door.

"I'll figure it out!" Seto shouted back.

He drifted into the kitchen, his head swimming with anger, looking for something to break.


	32. Chapter 32

Seto placed his fists, white-knuckle tight, on the kitchen counter and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to rationalize that breaking anything wouldn't _actually_ help with his problem, even if it did seem like it would help him feel better.

It was a trick his mother had taught him. He had been good at it in another life, but somewhere in the years following her death he let the skill gather dust, and now his proficiency in forcing himself to calm was rusty.

Why did he feel so angry? He'd fought with Noa plenty—almost constantly, it seemed. Seto knew that this wasn't an issue over which to smash his mother's ceramic platter, the only item in easy reach that would hit the linoleum with a satisfying shatter.

Mokuba's honor was as important to him as his own, he realized, but somehow that didn't explain how he felt. He took another several deep breaths until he felt the intensity of his grip lessened and his fists relaxed on their own. But still he itched to move.

He glanced around the kitchen for something to do with his hands and his body, and spotted the sink full of dirty dishes. He scowled, but immediately set to work. He began with the tougher dishes, using the rough side of a sponge to ferociously scrub day-old burned cheese from the sides of a casserole dish.

The job allowed him to work out frustrations that he realized must have been circling him for weeks. He put all his focus into the chore, and when the dish rack was full of gleaming plates and utensils he moved down the counter top, cleaning everything he touched.

After an hour, when the kitchen sparkled, he sat down at his usual spot to catch up on some schoolwork. Not long after he'd settled in, he heard Noa's bedroom door creak open.

Noa hobbled out of his room using only one crutch, slowly making his way into the kitchen. He pulled a glass from the dish rack without commenting on the clean dishes. He tried to fill it with ice and water from the refrigerator dispenser using his left hand, his right holding tight to his crutch.

Seto watched him, but let him struggle.

When he finally succeeded, he walked away from the puddle he'd spilled on the floor and sat down at the table, opposite the end Seto occupied.

After taking a few long swigs and swallowing an over-the-counter pain reliever, Noa leveled a glare at his twin.

Seto wasn't ready to talk to Noa yet, already irritated that he was interrupting his schoolwork.

"I have a list of things you need to carefully consider before letting Mokuba go on that trip."

Seto chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying anything too nasty in response.

Noa didn't wait for Seto to ask before diving into his list of demands.

"First, I'm not happy about the idea of you leaving town while the shop is open. How are you going to address any problems that are sure to arise in that time?"

" _First_ ," Seto mimicked, "I don't _care_ if you aren't happy about the head of the shop leaving town. Nobody asked you if you were. Things come up. This will be a good opportunity for you and the rest of the _employees_ to learn to cope and gain some managerial skills."

Noa narrowed his eyes at Seto, but didn't respond.

"You need to figure out if the workload can sustain the loss of hands, and I don't only mean with Yugi and Atem gone. This includes all the things we'll have to pick up without you around."

"Phone calls, settling order pick-ups, handling issues? That's what I meant when I said you'll have to cope."

"So," Noa went on as if Seto hadn't spoken, "you'll need to figure out how many hours of work are scheduled for that week and figure out if the rest of the crew can take on the burden, or how much more overtime is needed to bridge the gap."

"I already planned to do that tomorrow."

Noa nodded, as if counting a victory point to himself.

"Can we afford the airfare? If not, can KC afford you to take even _more_ time off to go by Greyhound?"

"I'm not taking a Greyhound."

"You have to at least consider it."

"I agreed to let Mokuba pay me back the costs of participating if he wins, so while I won't spend more than I have to, I'm not so concerned we won't be able to pay our bills that I'll consider taking a cross-country bus ride."

"What if he doesn't win?"

"I promised Mokuba I'll be playing in this tournament, too. I'll make sure he does."

Noa rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to argue with you."

"That's a first, but I'm glad to hear it," Seto sneered.

"Because I know it would be a waste of time to point out how stupid you sound when you're so sure of yourself."

Seto felt the heat rise to his face again, but he squeezed his fists, not allowing his twin brother to get under his skin again. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and made a sweeping bow.

"Your Highness," he said with a stony expression but a sour tone, "what _more_ must I consider to appease my liege?"

Noa's lip curled up in disgust.

"Don't be such a child!"

Seto stood up, still holding the stony mask on his face.

"Well?" Seto asked.

"Kaiba's Coats can't afford to make him some costume for free."

"I'll decide that for myself. I'm the one in control of the finances, and the shop isn't going under yet."

"You're the one who said it! When Miss Valentine came in and requested a new suit—"

" _Demanded_. She demanded it. In her case I refused out of outright principle due to her attitude. But on top of that, what KC can't afford is the _policy_ that we'll give away free garment to anyone who's slightly unappeased by what they receive."

"So what if this becomes a regular thing, Mokuba wanting coats made for him? Can we sustain that?"

"No. But Mokuba can't afford this right now, and it'll help him make the impression he wants to make. He's going to have the coat made for him, but I'll have him pay for it out of his winnings."

"Again, you're assuming he's going to take home first place!"

"I'm not. But between his experience and my strategies, he's going to win _something_. On top of that…" Seto paused as he decided in the moment, "I'm going to have something made for myself as well."

"You've _got_ to be kidding me! KC doesn't have the time to cater to your stupid whims! It's just a game!"

Seto leaned in and lowered his voice.

"Mokuba's strengths and accomplishments are not stupid. He has goals, he has dreams. I will _not_ let you crush them." He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the fatigue and frustration of all the arguing wearing on him. "Anything else?" he bit out reluctantly.

"That was it," Noa answered hesitantly.

"Good. Then if I can manage to clear up those issues, will you stop having a fit about me taking him?"

Noa flashed Seto a sullen glare, but didn't answer directly.

"You're right, you know," Noa said.

"About what?" Seto spat.

"Nobody asked me."

Without another word Noa turned and hobbled back to his bedroom.

"Who's being a child now?" Seto called.

Noa answered with the slam of his bedroom door.

* * *

A/N: I finally get to see YGO: Dark Side of Dimensions this morning! In, like, an hour. You should go see it too.

Additionally, I have to apologize. Re-reading this story, I've come across a few errors in almost all of the chapters. One recurring error is the mistake of changing a character's name. I've been using 4Kids names almost exclusively (because, although I didn't state this outright, this story takes place in the US, not Japan, because I'm familiar with US laws and school systems, making this easier for me to write.) However, I did accidentally slip into using Mai Valentine's manga name and calling Mokuba's gym teacher Miss Kujaku. That was a mistake, and I'm working to change it across all chapters where it occurred. I'm sorry if there was any confusion. We are, in fact, talking about the same person.

Now. I'm off to the movie theater.


	33. Chapter 33

Seto perused the catalog on his computer desk when a knock came to his bedroom door.

"Come in," Seto said, knowing full well Noa couldn't make it up the stairs—or if he could, Seto would have heard the attempts.

"Hey, bro," Mokuba chirped. He frowned when he saw Seto leaning over the thick book. "Oh."

"Oh?" Seto quirked an eyebrow and pushed away the catalog.

"I was hoping you weren't busy. But then… I guess I should have known, since you're always busy."

"I always have things I could or should be doing, if that's what you mean. But I was hoping to get your input on this."

Mokuba stepped into the room and peered over Seto's shoulder. "A coat? Why do you need my input? _You're_ the Kaiba in Kaiba's Coat's."

"I'd say that's Noa, actually. But this is for the tournament. You're familiar with the gaming crowd. What do I wear to perform in this sort of thing?"

Mokuba shrugged. "I've never been to such a big tournament, but I've seen loads of video clips. Anything goes, really. It's not like there's a dress code. And sometimes there are even people who show up in cosplay."

Seto shook his head, only vaguely familiar with the idea but enough to know he wasn't interested. He pushed the book toward his brother, who leaned in.

"Anything goes?" Seto asked.

Mokuba glanced over the glossy pages.

"This is just a concept. The shoulders won't really stand up like that without some massive padding or a heavy amount of starch."

"But you can make it?"

" _I_ can't. I was planning to send the order though the shop under a fake name. Noa or Diamon would have to take my measurements, but the person making the coat wouldn't know it was for me."

Mokuba's face fell and he leaned away from Seto. "Why do you feel like you need to hide this sort of thing?"

"I'm not hiding it. But I would prefer some of my personal affairs to remain secluded from business."

Mokuba stood up and crossed his arms, a glare fit on his face. "Like the fact that you're dueling? Why don't you want people to know you're playing a TCG? Millions of people play this game."

Seto chuckled and wrapped an arm around Mokuba's waist, pulling his brother back to the desk.

"Don't get offended. I'm not embarrassed to be doing this with you. In fact, I find the strategy of M&W highly compelling. Much more than spending my years in a dusty sewing shop."

"Then why the secrecy?" Mokuba demanded, his arms still crossed.

Seto smirked, his eyes alight.

"As I mentioned, strategy. I don't want Yugi and Atem to know I'll be participating until I'm in front of either of them with my deck."

Mokuba slowly uncrossed his arms and nodded. "That makes sense." He leaned in toward Seto's desk and peered at the page the book was open to.

Three images covered the page Seto had earmarked. They were all variations of the same long, black coat, with high shoulders and narrow sleeves. The front had no closures, and the unconventional style was what had first caught Seto's eye.

"But you should have it made without the sleeves."

"Without? Why?" Seto asked, curious.

Mokuba shrugged. "It'll look cooler, I guess."

"And what would I wear under it?"

"Long sleeves. Some kind of contrast color?"

"I don't think this would look good with a dress shirt. A white sweater?" he asked, but he wasn't feeling the color scheme.

Mokuba shook his head thoughtfully.

"No. Switch the colors. Wear that merino wool sweater father bought you, the black one. But make the coat white. You can wear black pants and shoes with it, too."

"I like that better," Seto agreed, nodding.

"I wonder…" Mokuba commented, but shook his head.

"What?"

"Well… I was just thinking. I know you're not interested in sewing."

"Not even a little."

"Right. But let's just pretend you were for a second. Can you imagine the look on Noa's face if he saw you wearing something like this, but he didn't make it for you? He probably knows every design in this book right?"

"Likely."

"So I bet he'd recognize it even without the sleeves. He'd know you had to have made it. And I know that if you tried you'd be really good at it."

Seto looked at the design and contemplated. It seemed simple, especially without the sleeves—he knew from his father that setting a sleeve was a particularly skilled task—but was it simple enough for someone who had no experience?

"He would be surprised and impressed and probably annoyed at first, and that would be amusing."

Mokuba nodded with a grin.

"But then he would turn it around on me to say I should be more involved in the shop, and he'll probably give me even more grief when I do manage to get around to selling."

"Oh. You're probably right. I guess it's not really worth it."

Seto continued to stare at the design in the book. It was only a concept design, a photograph in his father's portfolio. He would still have to draft the pattern, but there would be plenty of online resources for him to learn to do that without asking his twin brother for help.

There was, however, one other person whose reaction might be worth the grief he would get from Noa later, and for that, he refused to abandon the idea.

After re-creasing his earmark, Seto folded the book and set it on his lap.

"Hey," he said to Mokuba, changing the subject. "How was school today? Did you talk to your classmates?"

"Yeah. There was some activity they did and there's no way to make it up. But when I asked about how it was graded, they all looked at me like I suddenly started speaking Italian."

"So she was bluffing."

"Seems so. But can you… like… be nice to her when she comes in to KC? High school comes with enough drama that doesn't involve the teachers."

"Between Miss Valentine and myself, _she_ is the one who should be adjusting her work ethics. I'm not the one causing the problems. But I will call the administrator of your school in the morning."

"Fine. Just… try not to make it worse?"

"I'll try not to encourage Miss Valentine to respond. But it's not up to me to force her to be a decent school teacher. Or a decent human being, for that matter. Still think she's hot?"

Mokuba gave a long sigh.

"She's pretty. But she's ugly, too. I've lost my taste for her."


	34. Chapter 34

"Seto," Noa asked, hobbling into the kitchen, "when are you leaving for the shop this morning?"

Seto stood at the stove, a hungry-looking Mokuba waiting beside him with an empty plate.

"I'm taking Mokuba to school today. Whenever I'm done talking to his administrator, I'll head over."

Noa's crutches banged loudly against the edge of the kitchen table as he settled into a chair.

"Who's opening today?" Noa asked, a touch of irritation in his tone.

Seto rolled his eyes and shrugged, scooping a large spatula-full of scrambled eggs onto Mokuba's offered plate. Mokuba licked his lips, but Seto pointed over his shoulder to the cabinet behind him, then flashed two fingers.

Mokuba set the plate on the counter with a reluctant frown, but followed Seto's gesture and retrieved two more plates from the cabinet.

"I _asked—_ "

"I heard you," Seto spat, peering behind him to see that Noa had taken the seat at the head of the table and had his back to his twin. He hadn't seen Seto shrug. "I don't know. Daimon should be in, but he had a back injury recently."

"You're the only other keyholder. What are you going to do when you get there late, if Daimon called in and nobody opened the shop?"

"Daimon knows our number. He'd have called here if he won't be in."

"That wasn't my question," Noa spat.

"Mokuba starts school at seven forty-five. I'm taking him in a little early, and heading straight to the shop when I'm done."

"That's enough time to get everything set up if only drop him off. The steamers alone take forty minutes to warm up. I always arrive no later than eight."

"If I don't do it today I'll have to do it tomorrow morning. Or would you prefer I stop work in the middle of the afternoon and talk to her when school lets out instead?"

"I don't see why you have to take the time to stop in."

Seto filled the three plates with eggs and fried sausage links, and clicked the stove-top dial off. He handed one plate to Mokuba who dashed off to begin eating, and Seto carried the other two plates to the table.

"I made you breakfast," Seto growled. "Stop your bitching."

Seto dropped the plate in front of his twin and moved on to a seat with Mokuba between them so he wouldn't have to look at Noa. It felt like a petty thing to do, but most of the interactions between them seemed that way lately, so Seto did his best to ignore it and impaled a sausage link with his fork and knife. The table fell silent aside from the sound of utensils clinking.

"What do you need to talk to the admin about that's so urgent?" Noa asked quietly, when nearly half of his breakfast had been eaten.

Seto acknowledged that the silence was a sign that Noa had put a foot in his mouth, and it was the closest he was going to get to a "thank you" from Noa, let alone an apology.

Seto wiped his mouth with a napkin, thinking back to the blond man that seemed to hover around him whenever he was with Atem, growing even more irritated at the thought of Joseph Wheeler. Seto refused to be the kind of barbarian who habitually spoke with a mouth full of food. His mother had taught him table manners, and he would be damned if he ignored them.

"Miss Valentine has taken out a personal vendetta against me because she's that kind of woman. She's using KC's conduct—which I back entirely—as an excuse to attack Mokuba at school."

Noa glanced up at Mokuba. "What's your hot gym teacher going to do to you? Make you stay late after class? I'm sure you'd _hate_ that."

Mokuba didn't glance up from his meal.

"Shut up, Noa. It's not like that," he said to his breakfast plate.

"No," Seto pitched in. "She's trying to ruin his GPA."

"I think he's handling that well enough on his own." Noa grinned, bumping Mokuba's elbow with his own, but Mokuba recoiled.

"He's doing the best he can right now, Noa," Seto defended. "Lay off him."

Noa scowled as he realized no one appreciated his joke. "What can she even do? She's a gym teacher. I don't think it's even possible to fail gym class."

"She's trying, and I'm planning to put a stop to it as soon as possible."

"Fine, but why not give a phone call?"

"I was planning on it. But I decided I don't expect it to be as effective."

Seto finished his last bite, then glanced at his watch. He tapped Mokuba on the elbow and gestured to the back door.

"We have to go."

Noa worked on the few remaining morsels of his breakfast.

"Seto, could you put on a pot of coffee?"

Seto ground his teeth as he gathered his dishes and set them in the sink.

"I would have loved a cup of coffee this morning myself, but I'm sorry I didn't manage to brew a pot. I found myself a little busy, between finishing my schoolwork before anyone else was up, preparing for my day, and making breakfast for everyone. You'll just have to make it yourself, Your Highness," he declared.

When Noa didn't respond, Seto flashed a glance over to the table.

Mokuba peered nervously between his brothers, a bit of egg and sausage loaded on his fork.

"Mokuba, finish up. We're leaving in ten minutes."

Mokuba nodded and stuffed the fork in his mouth, carrying his plate to the sink before he'd managed to swallow.

Seto turned to leave the kitchen, but noticed in his peripheral vision when Mokuba reached for the handle of the coffee pot. He rolled his eyes at the boy, trying but failing to understand how he could act so nice, even after being spoken to so thoughtlessly.

* * *

Seto walked with Mokuba through the main doors of Domino High. In the main lobby the brothers stopped, Seto leaning in to receive a small side-hug from Mokuba. He watched him walk down the hall and disappear around a corner.

Seto turned into the main office. Behind a desk holding a telephone receiver to her ear sat woman wearing so much make-up it seemed she actually believed it could conceal the wrinkles of her aging skin.

She held up a bony finger when Seto entered the room. But it was accompanied with a welcoming smile, then followed by a roll of her eyes and a churning hand gesture, as if indicating she thought the person on the other end of the phone ought to get to their point already.

Seto nodded curtly and found a chair to wait in against the wall opposite the woman's desk. He had rehearsed what he would like to say in the car, and still felt the anger pulse through him at the thought of his kid brother being a target in poor conduct. But the woman behind the desk held an apparent intolerance for nonsense and wasted time which kept Seto from bouncing his knee or tapping his fingers in a show of impatience.

He wouldn't say that he liked the woman, who might be the administrator he was looking for, or otherwise only a receptionist. But he wasn't displeased with her yet, and that was more generosity than he thought he would have showed her by this point.

Seto leaned back and imagined what Mokuba was up to. He knew from touring with Mokuba that the hallway he had taken led to rows of blue lockers. He knew from his talks with his brother that that was where Mokuba would drop off his backpack and grab a softcover novel, then make his way to the cafeteria where he would hunker down with the book until his friends arrived, on days when he was made to show up so early.

But Seto hadn't attended this particular high school, so his familiarity with it was limited to the lower floor and the classroom where Mokuba had his first class of the day. Noa and Seto had attended a private school where they were placed in the same grade, both advanced for their age. But even three grades ahead, Seto still had several college courses added to his schedule which Noa hadn't applied himself enough to be accepted into, available only through a web camera in a private classroom.

His pull on the staff of Mokuba's school might have been greater had he had the benefit of being alumni, he guessed, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Finally, the woman finished her phone call and replaced the receiver.

"I'm so sorry about that. Some parents can never stop talking about their children. How can I help you, sir?"

"My apologies," Seto said without sincerity. "It would seem I've come to talk about _my_ child. I hope you're not too fed up with that already."

The woman grinned and gestured to a chair directly in front of her desk, and Seto moved to it.

"Not at all. Is there a problem I can help you with?"

"I should hope. That's what I came here for."

"Wonderful. Can I have the student's name, please?"

"Mokuba Kaiba."

The woman tapped some keys on the keyboard of the computer beside her.

"Ah, yes. A sophomore. You're his… father?" she asked doubtfully.

"He's my brother, but I'm legally responsible for him."

"I wasn't administrator when he was enrolled—you would have spoken to another woman at the time. But I remember hearing about his case."

Seto nodded, glad to feel his question had been answered without needing to ask.

"Actually," he said, "the problem I'm here to address is geared toward a staff member at this school. I feel my brother is being bullied by one of his teachers."

The woman leaned in, appearing concerned.

"Please understand, sir, that bullying is an accusation we take very seriously. If you have cause to claim this then please do explain, and Domino High will do all it can to correct the issue. But we have had many parents come in complaining about their student's teachers only to find that in most cases, the child has been… stretching the details."

Seto frowned. "If you're already accusing my brother of being a liar, then perhaps you won't be able to help me today after all. I'll have to go another level higher."

The woman faltered. "Please—don't misunderstand me, Mr. Kaiba."

"Then hear me out before you make assumptions."

The woman sat back in her chair and folded her hands, giving Seto her full attention.

"My apologies. Please go on."

"Miss Mai Valentine is the teacher my brother is having an issue with."

"The physical education teacher for his house, I do believe?"

"Yes. My issue with Miss Valentine was brought on by what she said directly to me over the phone on a day when she was acting in your role, and I had cause to call my student in absent from his morning classes, one of which was his phy. ed. class."

The woman inclined her head. "I had to take a sick day for myself this week."

"During this phone call Miss Valentine tried to manipulate the relationship between myself and my brother."

"Have you any idea what spurred this response from her?"

"I do. Miss Valentine happens to be a client of the business I own."

"May I ask, what business is that?"

"I don't feel that information is relevant, but just for full disclosure, I run a tailoring shop. Miss Valentine has been a customer longer than my brother has been a student here, although I have never worked with her personally until recently. Since I have taken over as owner I haven't felt her conduct is professional."

"In what way has she been unprofessional?"

"She took advantage of a family emergency and used it as an excuse to dock my brother points due to an absence that ought to have been excused."

At the woman's beckon, Seto explained the situation from the day Noa had broken his ankle.

"I see. While I am not in the business of taking sides, this is all rather concerning."

Seto let out a breath. "I want to make one thing clear. I am not here to start a war. I apparently sanctioned one when I reprimanded Miss Valentine for unfair behavior in my shop. She tried to demand unwarranted and unpaid labor from my workers, and she immediately took it out on my brother. I'm trying to diffuse the situation by going over Miss Valentine's head, but I am not interested in making matters worse."

"I understand. I'll call Miss Valentine in and talk the situation over with her. Just for clarification, do you know if Mokuba had actually been docked those points she promised for being absent?"

"I don't believe he was. However, even if he wasn't, this taking our her frustrations on Mokuba from her conduct with my shop has to stop. I won't tolerate another reaction from her. I would be more than happy to pull my brother from the school before I'm willing to let this go on. I know he isn't very attached to this place."

"We will do our best to make sure that isn't necessary."

Though Seto knew the conversation was wrapping up, and he'd done what he had come to do, he felt unsettled about it. But with nothing more to say, he stood from his chair and offered the woman his hand.

"I appreciate anything you're able to do. If it would help, you have my permission to pull Mokuba from a class today so that he has a chance to explain his side of the story."

She shook his hand without standing up. "Thank you for coming in, Mister Kaiba. We will do what we can."

Seto nodded and left the office.


	35. Chapter 35

Seto swept into the back room of Kaiba's Coats with plenty of time to spare, even if Noa would still find something to complain about. By the time the front bell rang with the first employee to enter, Seto had fired up the steam iron tanks on each of the two wide, padded tables, and opened the cash register.

He was busy pushing his way through the rack of orders on the work bar with a clip board when Atem walked in, Yugi chatting amicably in his ear from behind.

Seto only glanced at them as they began to set up at their machines.

"I'm glad you two are the first ones in."

Yugi peered up from his desk.

"G-good morning, Sir. Did you need to speak to us?"

"Yugi," Seto said, "I hope you're taking what I said seriously."

Yugi cleared his throat and sucked in a breath. "I-I'm… I'm working on it."

Atem watched Yugi a moment with an expression of curiosity, but Yugi only shrugged and remained silent.

"What do you need, Mister Kaiba?" Atem asked.

"I'm in the middle of evaluating our workload. I won't lie to you, we're overrun with work. And yet, because we aren't keeping up with promise dates I've had to give a great deal of work away at discounted prices to appease the customers we're failing in hopes that they come back again some day. As a result, this business is no longer making cash hand-over-fist like it did a few years ago."

Atem crossed the shop and stopped beside Seto.

"And this affects your willingness to grant us the vacation time we requested."

"It affects my ability to do so, yes. My willingness depends on your attitudes." Seto spoke over his shoulder, addressing Yugi. "I can see you making progress on what we discussed, Yugi. If I am able to spare the hands, I have no other reason to decline your request."

"Thank you," Yugi said with a slight bow of his head. "But, what about Atem? I…" Yugi took in another breath and raised his chin a fraction of an inch, but enough that Seto took notice. "I don't want to go if he can't come."

Seto glanced at Atem. "Do you feel the same?"

Atem nodded. "We're a team. I wouldn't leave Yugi behind."

"I'll keep that in mind," Seto said, but he couldn't help thinking about the team duels Mokuba had warned him about. He wondered if the Muto's knew. "Mind you, I have not yet made a decision on whether or not the shop can sustain the loss of hands."

"Is Mokuba still planning to go?" Yugi asked. "Wouldn't you be the one to take him?"

"I would be, and that remains the current plan. I realize it would be selfish of me to take my brother while barring the two of you from attending an event you've certainly known about far longer than he has. I'm planning to do the best I can to make everyone happy. But my priority is the clients."

"The customers are always right," Yugi said.

"You're familiar with how small businesses must run," Seto said. "Sometimes they require sacrifice. In this case, I'm sacrificing you."

Yugi gave Seto a sideways glance, his brows furrowed.

"What do you mean, Kaiba?" Atem demanded.

"I can't be bothered to care if I look like I'm being selfish. Mokuba is going to this tournament, which means I am going. Even if I evaluate that I can't spare one or both of you."

"You just said that wouldn't be fair," Atem defended.

"It wouldn't, and I admit that. But that still doesn't make you a higher priority than my brother and his reasons for wanting to go."

"And you believe that keeping us back would help raise your brother's chances of winning?"

"I don't encourage that kind of foul play. I prefer to teach my brother to face his adversaries head on, instead of hiding or cheating his way to victory. I would rather have you attend and compete against my brother, so that if he wins he comes away with the highest sense of accomplishment possible. But my concern is about my clients, and the reputation of the business attached to my name."

"That's not fair, Kaiba."

Seto placed his clipboard on a sewing desk and faced the two cousins, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"I did not open this dialogue to invite an argument. I am telling you what my priorities are. While it isn't any of your business, I will tell you that my brother is chasing dreams and I will not fail to give him every chance he has to catch them. I don't know why either of you are interested in this tournament, nor do I want to. But Mokuba _is_ going."

"Even if you can't afford it?" Atem challenged.

"That's my business to deal with."

"I don't know how interested I am in working under an employer who squanders his money."

Seto smirked.

"You sound like my twin. Don't worry. You'll still get paid, even if I don't. But that doesn't mean you have no responsibility to make this happen for yourselves. According to my records of our workload, we're teetering. If we have an influx of orders in the next couple of weeks, the answer will have to be no. Even if we don't, but someone on the schedule calls in sick more than a day or so, the answer will have to be no. Understand how fragile this possibility is?"

The Muto's both nodded.

"Good. Then get to work." Seto took up his clipboard again and began scribbling some notes. "And I don't want to hear another word of your opinions on my personal finances."

"Yes, Sir," Yugi said.

The room fell silent aside from the sound of metal hangers scraping against a steel bar as Seto pushed through the rack of orders, until one sewing machine clicked to life. Seto glanced over his shoulder to see Yugi getting to work, while Atem stood against his desk watching Seto.

"If you still have a problem with this arrangement Mister Muto, we can speak in private."

"I have no problem, _Sir_."

"Good. Then sit down and _work_."

Atem grinned, but didn't move.

"I just wonder, what makes you so sure taking Mokuba to this tournament will amount to anything."

Atem's crimson gaze bore into Seto as a challenge. But Atem said nothing more as he turned to his workload and sat down.

* * *

Seto busied himself in the front taking inventory on the shop's fabric supply when the phone rang. He ignored it, but a moment later Rebecca bounced out and handed him the phone, her hand over the speaker.

"It's Noa, Sir."

Seto rolled his eyes, but nodded and took the phone.

"Kaiba's Coats," Seto droned.

"What's the verdict?"

"Mokuba's school will fix the problem."

"What?" Noa asked after a moment's pause. "No, that's not what I—"

"You don't care about our brother's situation at all, do you?"

"I care about ours, which involves him. Do you know the details, or not?"

"You're talking about the workload, I assume?"

"Why else would I be calling?"

"Because you literally have nothing better to do with your life, perhaps?" Seto asked, glad that the lobby of the quiet shop was empty.

"Shut it. Did you do your math?"

"Of course I did. This shop, fully staffed—that's including when you're capable of working full-time—typically averages putting out nearly three hundred thirty hours of work per week before overtime. That's if I'm driving the staff a little hard, but the four of you who've been here the longest do that voluntarily by skipping afternoon breaks."

"Okay, so where are we for the month, if three-thirty is a weekly average?"

"Three-thirty is a high average. The new hires eat into that somewhat. That's an estimate from after Father died but before half the employees quit."

"Great," Noa said with a tone. "What the _new_ average?"

"The four of you can tackle just over half of that in a week. One-seventy hours."

"One hundred and seventy? That's good."

"The others average a combined one hundred and ten hours."

"That's a little more than five hours of paid work in eight paid hours of a workday. Each. Right?"

"Yeah."

"That's absurd."

"They're trying. But the new average is only two-hundred and eighty hours. To break it down per day, the experienced tailors are getting out over eight and a half hours each with overtime and lunch breaks, while the new hires are only getting through about five and a half hours in an eight hour day."

"I told you I needed hands in that work room."

"The new hires are trying, and we knew there would be a learning curve that we aren't past yet."

"So, in short, we're not keeping up. Is that all you've come up with? We already knew that, with all the promise dates we're missing."

"Daimon leaving early didn't help, and not having you in alone is making a big impact. This week we had four-hundred and fifteen hours scheduled, and we only made it through two eighty, with you only gone two days. KC cannot sustain this."

"And whose fault is it that I'm not able to work?" Noa demanded.

"Yours. You've damned us all," Seto remarked, not willing to re-open the same argument again.

"Don't get sarcastic. I'm serious."

"And instead of placing blame, I'm trying to find solutions."

"What do the next few weeks look like?

"Averaging three hundred thirty to four hundred fifteen hours per week."

"We're just going to keep sinking if we don't do something. We need faster hands."

"I can't just hire more people."

"I know all our machines are full. You'll just have to find the lowest common denominator and replace them. I recommend Hopkins. She's too young to work overtime hours, even when summer comes."

"Hopkins has one of the highest aptitudes of all of them. I'm not firing her."

"Then find a way to make her work faster, and fire someone else. That Wheeler kid isn't great either."

"You're wrong about something, Noa. Not all of our machines are full."

The line went silent.

"What are you saying?" Noa asked after a beat, his tone sharp.

"I have some phone calls to make."

"Seto? Seto, don't you _dare_ hang up on—"

Seto clicked the red button on the cordless phone, set it on the counter, and returned to his inventory with a smirk.


	36. Chapter 36

Seto strode across the shop to lock the front door. His key was already in the lock when he noticed a figure climb out of a violet convertible and walk toward the shop. He intended to turn the key, then wave the figure away or point out the bright orange 'closed' sign, but he gave pause when he recognized the blonde curls and shapely curves of Miss Valentine.

Still holding the key in the lock, which would not prevent the woman from entering until he turned it, Seto stared at the woman through the glass door just as she stared back at him.

The woman's gaze was piercing, but it wasn't anger he detected in her violet eyes—a shade to match her convertible, Seto noticed. There was… something there, though he couldn't figure exactly what. Then the woman flicked out her wrist and glanced at a shiny piece of jewelry Seto figured must have been a decorative watch. When her eyes flickered back to his, there was something new in them. A question.

Seto removed the key from the lock and held the door open for Miss Valentine to walk in. She strode by him, her eyes never leaving his as she stepped inside.

"Miss Valentine," he greeted, trying his level best to keep any bitterness out of his voice.

"Seto Kaiba," she returned, stepping away from the door so Seto could close it behind her.

"We're closed for the day, Miss Valentine," Seto said quickly, before she got an idea in her head that she had time for a fitting, or for an argument.

"You can call me Mai," she said. "I realize this is your closing hour. Certainly you have time for a simple pick-up, don't you?"

Mai's voice was different than he'd heard it before. Thicker, more syrupy. A fake attempt to flirt? Seto wondered. And yet, he found himself relaxing about her visit. Her mood certainly didn't seem like she had come for a fight. She even quirked a mild grin.

Seto glanced over his shoulder to the front counter where he had already begun taking apart the cash drawer to close it.

"Fine… Mai," he agreed with a slight bow, though confused about why she would allow him to address her informally now, when the concept was so irritating to her before.

Mai's smile brightened.

Seto returned to the cash register and restored the drawer, knowing he would have to start over, but that he hadn't gotten very far anyway. Then he slipped into the back room to retrieve Mai's modified order.

Seto thought to tell the woman that he had his finest tailor work on the garments, so there should be no lingering issue with the fit. But he knew better than to say a word working with such a difficult woman, who would only take such a claim as a challenge to find something she didn't like, and wanted fixed. So he remained silent as he handed the garment bag to the woman, who disappeared into a fitting room.

For the first time, Seto noticed that the woman was decked out in evening wear. The time was only a little after five. She would have only had a little time between school letting out and arriving at the shop to go home and clean up. Seto wondered why she had bothered with such an outfit, unless she was going out afterward. A date, perhaps.

Seto tried to conceal his expression when he tried to imagine what kind of man this woman would go on a date with. She seemed to walk the world as if everyone, men and women alike, were beneath her. While he related on some level to the mindset, it left him feeling doubtful she was going on a date at all.

After a long while in the dressing room, Mai emerged, once again wearing the dress she had on when she came in. Saying nothing, she leaned over to write out her check. Seto tore the store copy of her receipt off of the garment bag while he waited for her to finish. She held out the check, but when Seto gripped it between his finger, Mai did not let go.

Seto flashed her a look of irritation, guarding himself for a lecture or argument.

Mai's face was soft, however, sheepish even.

"Mister Kaiba," she began, "I apologize for my conduct in bringing one of my students into the dispute between us."

Seto wasn't ready to let the issue go, but he nodded and said, "I accept your apology, and I will pass it along to my brother."

"I've already spoken to him after class today. He appeared rather forgiving, to my relief." For emphasis, Mai placed a hand over her chest, as if to still her own heart. She released her hold on the check.

Seto didn't believe the theatrics, but was pleased that the issue had been resolved swiftly. He placed the check inside the register drawer and punched a button that printed a receipt, tore it off and handed it to Mai.

With her garment bag and receipt in hand, Mai had no reason to linger. They'd cleared the issue between them, and Seto hadn't even locked the door behind her when she came in. Nothing was stopping the woman from leaving, and yet she didn't move.

"Is there something else I can help you with?" Seto asked, in a tone that suggested he didn't intend to be much more accommodating.

Mai set her garment bag down on the counter and leaned over it.

Seto steeled his gaze on her face. He guessed that she was baiting him, for whatever reason, to notice her chest on broad display in her low-cut dress. But he was brought up to respect the client of the shop, and he would not give in to her bait.

It didn't hurt that he could see enough from his peripheral vision.

"Mister Kaiba," she purred in a voice like silk.

Despite Seto's reservations about the woman, her voice drew him in.

She reminded Seto of a female praying mantis. Men desired her unrelentingly—even those who knew she would devour his head the moment he came near enough.

"I have an outing planned for tonight. I was going to go alone, I usually do. But perhaps, if you're free… maybe you wouldn't mind accompanying me? Oh, but you have Mokuba at home, and I wouldn't want to be the reason he was left alone."

Something about the woman's regard for his brother changed his opinion of her approximately two degrees.

"My twin is home. He can watch the teen," Seto found himself agreeing.

Mai's eyes widened a fraction. "You have a twin? My, I wonder if he's as handsome as you are. You're identical?"

"We're not. And as a matter of fact, you've met my twin. He works here. Short kid, turquoise hair."

Mai's eyes widened further. " _He's_ your twin? Well." She stood up a bit, seeming surprised, but leaned in again in another attempt to flirt. "Between the two of you, I'd say you got all the looks."

"What are you inviting me to?"

Mai's gaze washed over Seto's face, and down his chest.

"You'll need to dress up a pinch," she evaluated, then gestured to the shop around them. "But I doubt that will be a problem for you."

Seto shook his head.

"But you haven't answered the question."

"Don't worry. I'm not asking you to buy me dinner. But I'm not buying yours, either."

"So there's dinner involved. Is there entertainment planned around this meal?"

"There's a joint I like to attend. Ever hear of The Spade? Drinks, a little bit of dessert, live jazz if you like to dance."

"I have. My father used to attend. I hadn't realized it was such a classy place. Black tie?"

"If you have one. But no tuxedos. I think they've become a cliché among young prom attendees." Mai slapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. I hope I'm not offending you. I forgot for a moment that you probably sell tuxedos."

" _I_ don't sell anything. I handle the paperwork and pay my employees. And regarding the tuxedos, I quite agree. It's my twin who would be offended."

"I see. You're a businessman, not a tailor."

"Correct."

"How exciting," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "So, what do you say?"

Seto glanced at his watch. It was nearing five-thirty.

"What time are you proposing we meet?"

"You can stop by my house in… shall we say, an hour and a half? Will that give you enough time?"

Seto wondered, if she was simply going home again, why she had bothered to dress up already. Unless this was how the gym teacher preferred to present herself, Seto's only other conclusion was that she had dressed up for him. He wondered if it wasn't a ploy to lure him out with her, but couldn't pinpoint what her motive for such a move might mean. But he didn't question it aloud.

Mai scribbled her address on the back of a business card she retrieved from her clutch. When she passed it over the counter top, her fingers brushed Seto's in what seemed to be a deliberate way.

"Think of it as a night on the town, as they say, to make up for the trouble I've caused you."

Seto examined the address. Mai's handwriting was very feminine. He had a difficult time imagining the woman before him as a high school gym teacher, where she likely dressed in unflattering workout clothes and coached bad volleyball matches with a whistle around her neck. Rather, she seemed to him to be more suited toward an academic craft, in which he could imagine her giving strict rules and lectures, wearing the pencil skirts and business jackets Kaiba's coats made for her.

He wondered, then, what this woman was like outside of work hours.

"I'll be there to pick you up by seven," he said.

"I expected to take my car," she said, glancing over her shoulder at the attractive sports car.

"While I recognize that your convertible is more attractive than my Civic, I don't intend let you drive me around town. I do have a child to take care of, and I intend to be in control of when I get back home to him."

Mai smirked, then nodded. "You're a caring guardian. It's good to see a caretaker making their child such a high priority."

"Mokuba _is_ my priority, in all contexts. Always has been. That's why I refused to tolerate you targeting him."

"I understand, and you have my deepest apologies." A little smile played across her lips. "We can take your car."

"Just so we're perfectly clear, I am not agreeing to go out on a date with you. I believe doing so would be inappropriate on several levels."

Mai leaned forward and peered up at Seto.

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

"While I admit you are an attractive woman, you're also intensely aware of the fact. Your attitude seeps into everything you do. And yet, I don't find you attractive enough to bend the rules just go out with you for an evening."

Mai faked a wince. "Am I not your type?"

"I wouldn't say I have a 'type'."

Mai wore a wide smirk. "Everyone has a type, Kaiba. I do wonder what yours is," she mused quietly. "But you've got _me_ all figured out, don't you?"

"I try to understand my… _adversaries_." Seto almost let the word 'enemies' slip from his lips, but forced down Gozaburo's influence before he could destroy Seto's chance of clearing the air for Mokuba's sake.

Mai barked out a fit of laughter. "Is that how you see me?" she choked, gasping for a breath. "Why on earth, then, did you agree to go out with me?"

Seto shrugged. "In all honesty, Miss Valentine, I could use a distraction. It's been quite a while since I've had an evening out."

Mai's laughter died down, and a smile remained on her face.

"Fine. Then I'll see you at seven."

Mai spun around in her heels with a wave, and walked out of the shop.


	37. Chapter 37

A little more than an hour later, Seto had cleaned up and put on one of his nicer suits, opting for white rather than anything more formal. His black tie hung over his shoulders as he ran a comb through hair that was growing a little too long. He made a point to try to remember scheduling a haircut, but wondered when he could possibly fit it in.

A knock on the door frame of the master bath made Seto flinch, which was followed by the sound of childish laughter.

"Did I startle you, bro?" Mokuba asked, peeking his head around the corner.

"I suppose so," Seto agreed, putting away the comb.

Mokuba whistled. "You look spiffy."

"Do you need something?" Seto asked, glancing at his watch. He needed to leave soon.

"I was going to ask if you had time to practice with me a bit. I finished my homework."

"You're all caught up on your late work?"

"Yes sir," Mokuba saluted. "But it looks like you're going out."

"No. I just wanted to make sure my suit still fits," Seto claimed as his skilled fingers fastened his tie with an eldredge knot.

"You're wearing cologne. I call BS."

"It's called sarcasm. I don't have the time to practice tonight. Tomorrow's the weekend. I'll make time then."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good." Mokuba grinned slyly. "Are you going on a date?"

"It's _not_ a date," he insisted.

"Whoa, defensive!" Mokuba claimed as he held up his hands. "So who are you going on this 'not date' with? Is it the woman from your work with the long black hair? I always forget her name."

"Her name is Vivian, and no. I can't date my employees."

"Why does that matter? I thought you said this wasn't a date," Mokuba said.

Seto turned away from the mirror and flashed Mokuba a dark glare.

Mokuba uttered the tiniest ' _eep_ ' before dashing out of the room and clomping down the stairs.

When Seto was certain he was finished getting ready for his ' _not date'_ , he clicked the lights off and strode down to the kitchen. He found Noa struggling to microwave a bowl of canned soup and Mokuba settling in at the table, where he had been arranging his cards into some sort of category system.

"I'm going out for the evening," Seto announced to both his siblings. "I trust you can find a way to take care of yourselves in the meantime."

Mokuba nodded from the table without looking up from his cards, but Noa said nothing as he carefully attempted to carry his bowl from the microwave to the table, leaning on one crutch with every step.

"Mokuba," Seto called.

"Yeah?" he answered after a pause, still without looking up.

Noa winced as hot broth splashed over his fingers, but he continued his slow trek after only the slightest pause.

" _Mokuba_ ," Seto repeated.

The boy finally looked up, allowing Seto to gesture to Noa and his struggle.

Mokuba shrugged, looking down at his cards again.

Seto did not move his gaze from Mokuba's face.

After a moment and three of Noa's agonizingly small steps later Mokuba seemed to notice Seto's firm stance and glare.

"Oh," he mouthed. He put down the cards in his hand and got up from the table. "Let me help you, Noa."

"I've got it," Noa claimed.

Mokuba reached to take the bowl anyway.

Noa jerked his elbow out, forcing Mokuba away, but hot broth splashed onto the back of Noa's hand. Out of reflex, he dropped the bowl to nurse his hand, spilling the hot soup across the floor.

"Watch it!" Noa cried, pushing Mokuba.

"Don't push me! I was trying to help you!"

"I can do it myself!"

"The trail of broth," Seto droned, "from the microwave to where you're standing would suggest otherwise."

"I didn't ask you!" Noa cried. "Mokuba, what if I wasn't wearing my slipper and spilled on my bare foot? I could have fallen and hurt myself worse."

"Noa," Seto said, "what if you had just let him take the bowl in the first place?"

Noa spun around to glare at his twin. "Nobody asked you."

"I tried to tell him to help you. You're the one who spilled. Do I _have_ to stay and babysit you two? Because I oughtn't need to."

Mokuba, who had already ran for the mop from the pantry, peered up at Seto.

"No, go out on your date."

"A date? That's why you're not entertaining Mokuba tonight?" Noa demanded.

" _Entertaining_ him?" Seto repeated.

"Seto," Mokuba whispered. "Don't."

He glanced down at Mokuba, who was busy picking noodles off the floor while Noa forced his way around him to the table.

"Are you under the impression that my job is to entertain him? To keep him from bothering you?"

Noa eased himself into a seat at the table, but remained silent.

"But of course, _your majesty_ ," Seto refused to let up. "The value of this _insolent_ child can only be measured by how little he disrupts your life, and how well he does his _chores_. Tell me, your greatness, what shall his punishment be?"

"Shut up, Seto," Noa spat. "No one is interested in your dramatics."

"You're just like Father. He never cared either."

Noa spun around in his chair and shot a glare at Seto, his mouth open as though he were ready with a comeback, but too angry to let it loose.

"Seto," Mokuba whispered. "That's enough. Please don't fight."

Seto stared down at Mokuba, whose pleading eyes peered back at him. The words stilled him, though his anger burned raw.

Without an explanation, Seto twisted around and stalked off, slamming the still-open microwave door on his way to the hall that led to the garage.

"Seto, wait!" Mokuba called, tramping after him. "When will you be home?"

"Don't wait up," he said with an effort to soften his tone. "Try to find something you can make for dinner."

"Yeah. Sure. I could… I could make something for him and me."

"If you feel like bothering. But he doesn't deserve it."

He closed the garage door behind himself.


	38. Chapter 38

"You must be enjoying your meal," Mai said after a long stretch of silence.

While wailing saxophones and pianos weren't Seto's preferred sound of music, he found the quiet atmosphere of The Spade soothing. Dinner had been quiet as well, his companion seeming to have little to say. Yet, he hadn't felt so relaxed in quietude in so long that he couldn't be bothered to care.

Seto swallowed a bite of the best steak he'd had in a long time.

"The steak here is quite good," he said.

 _I was enjoying the quiet_ , he thought.

"You know, I didn't invite you here just for the steak," she said.

Seto glanced up from his plate, quirking his brow. "Then why did you invite me? Surely, it wasn't for my charming companionship, either."

Mai smirked. "You'll see. After dessert."

"You _did_ say there would be entertainment."

"Mhm," she hummed while twirling her steak knife in her fingers.

The meal passed mostly in silence, with Mai offering the occasional comment about Mokuba's attitude toward phys. ed. class, and Seto speaking only when he felt he needed to keep the pretend conversation going.

When he wasn't looking at his plate or catching glimpses of his companion to show he was listening, Seto's gaze drifted around the restaurant. The blue wallpaper was decorated with an intricate gold scroll work pattern, and the carpet was a neat gray with small violet diamonds.

Seto had been inside The Spade a few times as a child, but the establishment wasn't what he would call familiar. The interior had probably been remodeled. Nearly the only thing he had remembered was that the food tasted better than anything Gozaburo could cook at home, and the meetings he held after the meals always lasted too long.

When the waiter came to collect their plates, Mai placed a dessert order for both of them without asking Seto.

Seto wasn't interested in more than two bites of the crème brulee he knew he'd have to pay for, but he didn't complain. The concoction tasted pleasant and had an enjoyable texture, but he found the sweetness too overpowering to eat very much. He set his spoon aside to signal that he was finished and waited for Mai to do the same.

The woman appeared to lavish her dessert until the tiny dish was clean, when she finally set it aside. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, a pleased grin on her face.

"You've apparently enjoyed yourself," Seto commented, although the remark felt lame. How long could the two of them carry on a conversation based on how well the other was enjoying their dinner? Still, he felt he had nothing else to say.

Setting her dessert dish aside, Mai rested her arms on the table and folded her hands, then leaned in close.

"Are you ready for the next stage?"

Seto's interest in the evening was waning. A fine line ran between a relaxing atmosphere and a dull one, and the occasion was leaning toward the latter.

"I suppose so," he said, tossing his cloth napkin onto his plate. "Lead on."

Mai gestured the waiter over.

"Separate checks," Seto specified to the man. Mai had claimed he didn't have to pay for her, and he would hold her to it. He ignored the waiter's dirty glances as he scrawled out a check.

The jazz music seemed to drift into the background as Seto followed the woman's swinging hips through The Spade. Past the dining hall, where Gozaburo held his occasional business meetings or social dinners, were a set of wide, ornate curtains from floor to ceiling and even wider across than they were tall.

A young man standing beside the curtain inclined his head toward Mai, perhaps the way a butler might dip for the master of his house. But the man, no older than Seto, was dressed in a red designer dress shirt and dark stone-washed jeans, an outfit that looked like it had been bought at a shopping mall.

All the same, the man pulled back the heavy fabric—not enough that Mai could walk through on her own without pushing the curtain aside herself, but enough to show that the invitation existed. The man winked and kissed the air in Mai's direction.

"Devlin," Mai smirked as she passed, but she showed him no more regard as she led Seto through the curtain.

"You take all your dates here?" the man asked Mai, following around to the other side of the curtain.

Mai flashed a patronizing smile. "This isn't a date," she corrected. "We're just here to have a little fun. Blow off some steam."

The room behind the curtains was plain, other than that it shared the same decorative carpeting and wallpaper as the rest of the restaurant. There was no furniture, and rather than another chandelier to light the area, a set of florescent lights illuminated the room. The lighting cast a cheap, uninviting air about the area.

The room was made up of the curtains at Seto's back, and three walls. The wall opposite the curtain contained a single door. Where the left and far wall should have met in a corner seemed to create a hallway lit by more florescent lights, but he couldn't see where it led.

Seto couldn't see the draw of the room, or how anyone could 'blow off steam' here.

"Hey," Devlin called, speaking directly to Seto. "Entertainment costs extra."

"Excuse me?" Seto questioned, his eyes on the man a head shorter than himself.

"I said, your entry fee isn't included in your meal. Plenty of people come here _just_ for the steak, you know."

Devlin held out his hand, palm up and fingers greedily twitching.

Seto glanced back toward Mai, who had walked a few steps ahead of him without looking back.

"Don't worry about her. She has a tab."

"How much?"

"Two hundred."

Seto scoffed. "I don't even know what I'm paying for," he argued, not bothering to reach for his wallet.

"Entertainment," Mai emphasized over her shoulder. "I promise, it'll be worth it. And who knows? You might even get your money back at the end of the night."

Seto squinted at the blonde, but the loud screech of an amplified guitar cut through the air. He peered around the lobby area, but couldn't see any speakers.

"You brought me to a rock concert?" Seto asked, but Mai didn't seem to hear him.

"Don't mind the music. Someone's just turned up the stereo," Devlin explained.

"You aren't concerned about the customers in the dining room, trying to enjoy their quiet jazz?"

Devlin flicked the heavy curtain. "Sound absorbing."

"Are you coming, or not, Mister Kaiba?" Mai called impatiently.

Seto rolled his eyes, but he pulled his checkbook out of his coat pocket.

Devlin put up a hand. "My apologies, sir. Cash only," he said with a slight bow.

Seto didn't put the book away, but instead flipped open the cover and flipped through a set of bills discreetly tucked into the flap of the checkbook's cover.

"I wouldn't have expected otherwise," he mumbled as he placed two hundred dollar bills in Devlin's open palm.

The man grinned and pocketed the crisp bills. "Enjoy your evening, Mister Kaiba."

Mai waited for Seto to catch up to her and linked her arm around his.

"My, my, aren't we a big spender tonight?"

"I don't like to sound cheap. But when you told me I didn't have to pay for your meal, I never expected that this night was still going to cost me nearly three hundred dollars."

"I wouldn't count it lost just yet. Remember, there's still a chance you might get that money back, and more."

"And when are you going to explain to me how I might do that?"

Mai pushed open the door, which looked more like an emergency exit than the door to a night of loud music and expensive entertainment. The volume on the other side of the door was deafening, but only lasted another moment before a few indiscernible shouts rose above the guitars, and the music was turned down.

The inside of the large room was set up like a casino, if one had been made up by teenagers and broke college students who had only seen casinos in movies. Seto had never gambled before, simply because he hadn't had much extra cash to make it worth his while, so he didn't feel drawn to many of the game tables.

But one area of the room held fast Seto's attention. It didn't appear to be like any casino game he'd ever heard of. A large circle of chairs ran in the center of the room, with several more rows of seats inside. Nearly every seat was taken, but most people—especially in the outer rows—were not sitting in their seats.

"This isn't a dog fighting arena or something crude like that, is it?"

Mai flashed him a disgusted look. "You think I would bring you to something so distasteful?"

"I didn't think you would bring me to a makeshift gambling ring, either."

"If that's what you think this is, you're not looking hard enough." She gestured forward toward the circle of rowdy people.

Seto had to move closer to see through the crowd. When he was close enough he could see that in the center of the sea of chairs was a table with two seats opposite each other. Two people sat in those seats and appeared to be in the middle of playing a card game, though it would seem more like they were gladiators with how heated the match was.

"Are they…?" Seto paused, studying the arena. "Are they playing Magic & Wizards?"

Mai gave a knowing smirk and slapped his back.

"I've seen your boy play this game at school. I heard a rumor that you're interested, yourself."

"I could be. I'm curious who, other than my brother, knows I play."

"Doesn't matter. Interested?"

"Does it matter if I don't have a deck?"

Mai winked. "That's what makes it fun."

(giant arena thing. It doesnt matter that seto didnt bring a deck because part of the fun of the underground competition is that they have preset decks people contributed to, more than enough usually, and you can grab one at random to play.)


	39. Chapter 39

"How will this contribute to getting my money back?" Seto asked. He glanced back at the gambling tables with disinterest.

Mai pointed to a pedestal placed among the inner circle between two chairs. On top of the pedestal was a large glass vase filled with green slips of paper. A young man sat in one seat beside the pedestal, a clipboard in his lap.

"That's the jackpot. You can win some if you gamble, but you're more likely to win bigger by dueling. Every match a player wins gets them some money back, and that man keeps track of it."

Devlin slipped past Seto and Mai just then and made his way to the pedestal. He dug into his pocket and retrieved a large wad of bills. He counted them himself, then held them out to the young man seated beside the pedestal, who scribbled something on his clipboard and tossed Devlin's bills into the vase.

Seto tried to estimate how many bills the vase contained, but couldn't make a strong guess from his distance. If he could judge by the amount of people in the room, he would guess there had to be at least ten thousand, but he couldn't assume everyone's cover price had been the same as his. Not every bill was guaranteed to be a hundred.

"Why didn't you have to pay to get in?" Seto asked.

Mai tossed her hair over her shoulder and pushed her way to the inside of the ring.

"Because," she said, "I'm the best this place has seen. I've earned so much in winnings I've stopped collecting."

" _You're_ the best?"

"Don't mock me," she said, insulted.

"My brother informed me that the Muto cousins are among the best in the region."

Mai let out a bark of laughter. "Those two punks are alumni of the school I work for. They may be great in their grandfather's basement, but they couldn't make it here."

"They're attending a national tournament."

"Them, too? Is that so?"

"What do you mean by 'them, too'?" he asked as he followed her through the crowd.

"Oh. Nothing."

"Are _you_ attending the tournament in New York?"

"My, my, Mister Kaiba. For a tailor, you certainly know a lot about trading card game tournaments."

Seto almost answered that he wasn't a tailor, that he was a businessman, but decided that while they were moving through a noisy crowd was not the best time or place to argue the point.

"My brother wants to go," Seto explained, but he didn't take his eyes off the phys. ed. teacher. She hadn't said she _wasn't_ planning to go. He knew Mokuba would want to know to expect her there.

"Too bad he'll be in school," she said with a click of her tongue when they reached the inner circle.

Seto narrowed a glare at her. He leaned in close and spoke in a deep tone.

"I am not going to start with you on that. Try to stop me from excusing my child from school again and I _will_ have you fired. Do not think for a moment I don't have the ability to."

Mai stepped back, but placed a calm hand on his arm.

"You misunderstand me, Seto," she said sweetly, and the change in her tone was drastic, like a flipped switch. "I hadn't realized you intended to pull him from school for such a thing. I know how to you value his education. As long as he has your permission I can't see it being a problem."

Seto let out a breath he knew probably sounded like a sigh of relief, although he was only trying to force himself to calm down before he grew angry again. He turned away from the woman and to the surrounding crowd to find a distraction.

"Why is a crowd like this allowed to loiter inside The Spade?" he asked eventually. "I can't imagine management smiles upon this arrangement."

Mai shrugged.

"Most of this crowd is made up of kids who have parents dining in the restaurant, probably with other important people. They're bored, and their parents have to cash to throw around. Rather than have them disrupt their dealings, they send them to play with the other children. At least, that's how I hear this place started."

"So, management doesn't care?"

Mai gestured to a pair of teenage boys standing nearby.

Seto figured the boys to be brothers as they wore the same cropped turquoise hair and dressed in the same pink jacket, but one appeared a few years older than the other.

"Those boys? They're management's kids."

"To keep out of the adults' hair while they dine, they decided to send their kids to an underground club? Sounds like superb parenting. I'm surprised this place isn't more of a crime ring."

"At least they're not out on the streets, doing who-knows-what with whatever thugs they meet. Not just anyone can get in here."

Seto shrugged it off while Mai pulled him toward the teenagers.

"Pardon me, Roba boys? My companion would like to join," she said, gesturing to Seto, "but he needs a _category_ deck."

One of the teenagers nodded, and without a word they both disappeared.

"What's a 'category deck'?" Seto asked.

Mai pursed her lips and said nothing. In a blink the boys returned, the younger teenager carrying a velvet-lined wooden tray like one Seto had seen in the Muto's game store, used for rolling dice. But rather than dice, two rows of three neatly stacked decks filled the tray.

"Pick a category," Mai said smoothly, waving to the tray.

"I see. And I'm supposed to believe that the cards in these decks are any good?"

"What fun would this place be if the players didn't provide their very best?" the younger of the teenagers answered. "These decks are comprised of cards donated by players that have won matches, and have their own powerful cards aside from the donations."

"This system was implemented by players who were willing to sacrifice powerful cards for the sake of gaining more able opponents," said the older boy.

"So even those who show up empty handed being dragged here by an acquaintance," Seto said, eying Mai, "can still participate and have a chance."

"You're getting it," Mai said. "So, pick a deck."

"What are the categories?" Seto asked.

"You have two options," the first teenager said. "We can tell you the list of categories in total and you may choose any one deck, but the decks are not arranged in an order related to the order of the categories. In other words, the decks are randomized. You may not choose another if you are not satisfied with the first."

"Or, without hearing the categories, you may look through up to two decks and choose whichever you prefer, but you will not have known what all the potential options are," the other added.

"Will I be able to know before choosing whether my opponent is also using one of these decks or his own cards?"

"All opponents play the winner of the last match," Mai added. "You're really at a disadvantage with either option. You won't know your cards."

"Not necessarily," Seto said, glancing toward the center of the arena. "I might not know my deck, but I have the opportunity to know my opponent's, at least. And I can always familiarize myself with my own deck once I choose one."

"I like the way he thinks," the older teenager said to the younger. "This should be an interesting match."

"Tell me the categories," Seto said.

"The categories are _light, dark, power, trap, equip_ and _effect_ ," said the older. "Each has its own disadvantages as well."

"Like nearly any set of trading cards. There has to be a balance," Seto said, though he hoped greatly that the deck he chose at random would be the 'power' deck.

"The _light_ deck, for example, is made up mostly of fairy monsters and similar cards. The monsters and magic cards have powerful effects for protecting a player's life points, but the monsters themselves can be very weak," said the younger.

"We could give you the full list of disadvantages, too, but it won't matter since you can't choose which category you receive with a random deck."

"No, don't bother. I choose the middle deck in the row closer to myself."

The younger shifted the tray closer to Seto and gestured for him to take the deck he had chosen, and Seto picked it up.

Just as swiftly as they had appeared with the tray, they disappeared into the crowd again. Seto didn't see where they had gone.

"What did you get?" Mai asked curiously.

"Are you intending to play me?" Seto asked as he flipped through the deck of cards.

"I'm a spectator tonight. Let me see your deck," she demanded, leaning in close to see over his shoulder.

Seto did not try to push her away. He started over from the beginning of the deck and flipped through slowly, though he found his focus drift from the cards to the woman beside him, who stood so close he caught the light scent of floral perfume. He shifted away after a moment.

"Looks like you didn't get the fairy deck," she said.

"You sound disappointed about that."

"I was hoping to get to watch you have to play the monster _Happy Lover,_ " she smirked.

"Those boys said these decks are made out of decent cards. _Happy Lover_ doesn't count."

Mai rolled her eyes. "Some duelist you'll turn out to be, if you don't believe every card has value."

"It doesn't appear that I got the deck I wanted, but I won't complain about these cards," Seto said. Although he wasn't familiar with very many of them, he could see their potential. "This must be the trap deck."

Mai put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Getting ready to go?" she asked. "You're up next."

As irritated as he often found himself in the woman's company, he continually found himself noticing her presence. He still questioned why he agreed to go out with her, but he couldn't say he wasn't enjoying himself.

"Yes," he said, slipping the cards into his pocket so he could watch the end of the duel. "I'm ready."


	40. Chapter 40

Seto took his seat at the table. His opponent was a bubbly young girl with wild brown hair, whom he was convinced had won out of sheer luck.

She reached over the table and held out her hand, which Seto eyed as he shuffled his deck.

"You're new here, aren't you?"

"You don't recognize me as one of the regulars, do you?" he asked. He didn't want to say he'd never been there before, it felt too much like saying he was new to the game. Seto refused to be underestimated for a misunderstanding.

"It's not that. Shaking hands is part of the code of conduct here, a sign that we respect each other as duelists. It's how every duel starts."

Seto placed his cards on the marked table and shook her hand half-heartedly.

"I'm Mana," she said.

"Kaiba," he answered.

As the duel came underway Seto began to recognize his brother's skill level. The girl he played was a novice compared to Mokuba, and Seto knew that he outmatched Mokuba when it came to strategy. Before he knew it Seto's side of the field was lined up to take out Mana's remaining life points in one turn.

"Wow," she exclaimed, seeming unfazed by the loss. "You're really good! I bet you'll win a lot tonight!"

Without another word she got up from her seat and walked to the man guarding the jackpot. He scribbled on his clipboard and counted out a couple of bills for her. She skipped away like she was the victor rather than Seto.

The rounds went on much the same, the crowd quickly getting excited at each new pairing, shouting Seto's family name as encouragement.

After four consecutive wins, just as he was beginning to weary of the child's play, a young man with dark eyes and white hair sat down, and the crowd fell silent and restless.

Seto's curiosity piqued, he held out his hand and offered his name.

"Bakura," the young man said. His voice was softer than Seto had expected, but quite deep.

A few turns into the match Seto realized that either this man was using the "dark" themed deck, or the zombies and fiends he used were his own and spoke prominently about his personality. Seto's trap deck was keeping Bakura's grotesque monsters fairly at bay, but after displaying his strategies to several opponents in a row, some of his moves were becoming rather easily deflected.

When Bakura's monster dropped Seto below half his life points, he wondered about his ability to win the match. His opponent refused to fall into the trap of attacking when Seto laid any card face-down, and while he could use that as a bluffing strategy on its own, Bakura dodging his traps wasn't helping Seto gain much ground.

With Seto's deck focused on traps, it didn't contain very many monsters, and the few he had had already been played. There was not much to do other than watch his life points dwindle as he tried his best to protect them.

The loss didn't bother Seto as much as he thought it might, but he found solace in the idea that he already knew—and owned—cards that could have helped him win. The strategy of building one's own deck, he realized, was the biggest factor in how one could succeed in this game competitively, and he was doing his best in that arena. Losing with a random set of cards couldn't reflect on him as poorly.

He accepted Bakura's hand again at the end of the game, though he had been the only opponent who had offered it after a duel.

"I hope to see you around here more often. Rare gems like you are what keep this game interesting."

Seto didn't know how to respond, so he remained silent and returned to the edge of the crowd as the next person in line took his seat.

"I would have fared better with my own deck," he said when he made it back to Mai.

"You say that like you have your own deck," she replied.

Seto smirked, but didn't answer.

"You have winnings to collect," she said, pointing to the pedestal. "The game keeper has been keeping score for you."

The man remained silent as Seto approached him, leaving Seto unsure of how the process worked. He punched numbers into his calculator and scribbled on what Seto could now see was a spreadsheet.

Seto didn't understand the formula he was using to calculate the winnings, but guessed it had something to do with the amount of matches he had won, and possibly the amount of matches his first opponent, Mana, had won before him.

But after a moment the man finished his scribbling and reached into the jar, drawing out a large handful of bills. He counted them, shook his head, then reached in the jar for a few more. He counted them again, then glanced up at Seto for the first time.

"You're a talented player, Mister Kaiba. I hope you come back again."

Seto accepted the bills and arranged them in a pile, but didn't bother counting or folding them yet, though he was pleased at how thick the pile was. Instead, Seto eyed the man.

The man wore a dark suit with a pair of reflective sunglasses clipped to his breast pocket. The suit, with pick stitching detail and fine silver pinstripes, appeared to be higher end and seemed to Seto to be over-the-top for an underground hangout space. But Seto had noticed that not all of the club's patrons were teenagers, and none of them were dressed like peasants.

"Pardon me for distracting you," Seto said. "But why do you take this game so seriously? I thought this place was for entertainment."

Roland laughed and relaxed in his seat, propping an arm around the back of the empty chair beside him.

"Don't worry about distracting me. See, I'm an accountant by day. I handle numbers every waking moment, so I could keep score for this game in my sleep. As for the game?" he gestured to the players, "I don't dislike my day job, but this is far more interesting. Besides, the contestants let me take a cut for doing the numbers, so it supplements nicely."

Something about the man's tone and his slight air of unprofessionalism despite his dress struck Seto as familiar.

"Have I seen you somewhere before?" Seto asked.

Roland inclined his head and gave a slight smile. "Indeed, Mister Kaiba, you have. We've met in this place before, though you were much younger then."

Seto tried to think back on the times he'd come here with his father, and what kind of meetings he usually conducted here. The Spade wasn't the place to talk about wool fabric selections. More a place to talk money or stocks, but Gozaburo wasn't that kind of businessman.

"You were my father's accountant once before, weren't you?" he asked as the recollection dawned on him. "Roland."

"That's right. Kaiba Senior had decided to go a different route some years ago, but before that we had worked together for years. Is he doing well?"

"He fired you because he thought you were incompetent," Seto recited, watching Roland's pleasant grin wane. "And no, he isn't doing well. My father is dead."

Roland stumbled over his words trying to find a reply, but couldn't seem to get anything intelligible out.

"I didn't agree with him, you know. I believe an employee's worth is measured by the outcome of his efforts, not his delivery." Seto remembered that Roland's inability to articulate himself under pressure was the thing Gozaburo has hated about him the most. "That is to say, I wouldn't have fired you."

Roland's thin smile returned dimly. "I appreciate that, Seto. May I call you Seto?"

"I have no preference."

"I'm sorry to hear about—"

"Don't," Seto interrupted. "My family is struggling to adjust, but I believe we're better off."

Roland let out a deep sigh, then raised his eyes to the present duel a moment and made a note on his sheet. When he was done, he offered Seto the seat beside him, but Seto declined. All the same, he made a point of turning back to face Seto straight on.

"I hadn't wanted to be the one to say it," Roland said, "but I do agree. How are your brothers? I don't believe I've ever met the younger, but I do recall your twin."

"Noa is a pain in the ass. Just like Father."

Roland's response was a snort of laughter.

"My younger brother is struggling the most, but that has more to do with my time being divided too thinly to give him the attention a young high school student needs."

"Does he have a group of friends? Even a place like this might be good for him." Roland glanced over. "I'm here nearly every evening during the week. The Spade rarely has a safety incident."

"I'm actually learning this game so I can have a reason to spend more time with him. He plays competitively. I doubt he hasn't at least heard of this place in his circles."

"It could be good for him. What has become of your family business?"

"It's in my name, but selling has been on the back burner of my mind the past year."

The duel ended and Bakura's opponent came to collect. Roland had to fish for a fifty and sent the young boy away looking disappointed.

"And you're still using your father's accountant?"

"No. Unexpected funeral costs have made me think more frugally, and I had to cut costs where I could. I'm doing the accounting myself."

"I see." Roland lifted the sheet he was working on and tore off a corner of the blank spreadsheet below it. He wrote his name and number on it and handed it to Seto. "I'm sure you're capable enough to handle your tasks on your own. I always knew there was great potential bubbling in you. But in case you ever need some free council, you can call me any time. Otherwise," he said, gesturing around himself, "now you know where you can find me."

Seto took the paper and slipped it into his pocket.

"I appreciate that," he said, and meant it. While he doubted he ever would need to call upon the man for his expertise, he was glad to find someone willing to help who wasn't trying to make a buck off of him. Such loyalty was rare in his life.

"I won't try to keep you," Roland said, "but it is nice to see you taking the reigns on your life." He held out a hand.

Seto shook it with more strength than he had with his opponents.

"Thank you," he said, and turned away.

Mai was waiting for him at the edge of the crowd, and they worked their way back through the circle together.

"Someone you know?" Mai asked, pointing a thumb over her shoulder at the accountant.

"Someone who used to work for my father."

"You seem quite attached to him."

"We both disliked my father together. It's refreshing to see him in an environment where he isn't forced to cower out of fear of my father's anger."

Seto glanced at the exit, then remembered the stack of bills in his hand. He flicked through them, counting thirteen one hundred dollar bills before swishing them into a roll.

"Did you win big?"

"Even if I didn't win _everything_ , I've recovered my investment, and with plenty to spare."

"This was a busy night. Not so grim about the entry fee now, are you?"

"And _this_ is why people come here?"

"No, they come for the thrills. Nobody is forced to pay. They don't have to come in if they don't want to participate."

"I suppose not."

"Did you at least enjoy your evening? Admit it, it was nice to blow off a little steam, wasn't it?"

"It beat getting shouted at by my twin every thirty seconds for things I have no control over."

Seto clenched his jaw. He wasn't sure why he said what he had, other than that it was almost constantly on his mind since their father had died. But he hadn't meant to be so candid about his home life to a woman he barely knew, and could sometimes barely tolerate.

"I'm afraid this concludes the part of our evening I had planned," Mai said, allowing Seto to brush past his comment like he hadn't said a word.

Seto pocketed the money and peered at the woman. She seemed to be suggesting that he had some of his own plans for their evening together.

"What are you trying to suggest?" he asked.

"I'm not trying to _suggest_ anything other than that our evening doesn't have to be over, if you don't want it to be."

"I can tell there's an invitation you're wanting to send, but I'm not willing to let you be so coy about it. You're a grown woman. If you want something, say it."

Mai smirked. "I like how forward you are. Fine. Normally I don't invite men to my apartment. But I know you have family and I live alone, so in this case I will."

"I thought you said this wasn't a date."

"It isn't. That's what makes it better. We both came into this with absolutely no expectations. We're not trying to be a couple, and we're not trying to blur the lines of our professional boundaries, outside of a bedroom anyway. But we're consenting adults who should feel free to act as we please."

"I take it you're not the 'settle down and get married' type, then."

"That kind of commitment would be a burden to my life."

"Your life of coaching high school gym class and playing with young adults in a secret geek club? I can see how marriage wouldn't work with that."

"You make it sound like that's all I'm good for, Mister Kaiba, a notion which I find highly insulting."

With her hands on her hips, she stuck her nose in the air and closed her eyes.

Without a thought in his mind Seto leaned forward and wrapped his hands around her shoulders.

Mai opened her eyes just in time for him to touch her glossed lips with his own. She relaxed into his arms and leaned into the kiss, though it was feather-light.

Seto pulled away when Mai parted her lips, feeling at least as surprised with himself at she appeared to be.

"Don't tease a girl like that. Are you in or out?"

"Like you said, we're consenting adults. But that doesn't mean we can't wait until we're behind closed doors."

She smirked at him. "Fine. I'll lead the way."


	41. Chapter 41

"I shouldn't be doing this," Seto said, uncertain. His arms wrapped tightly around the woman's waist as he lowered her to her bed.

Mai laid back, her dress already unzipped.

"Are you worried your little brother will find out?" she asked tenderly.

"Either of my brothers finding out would be a problem. Just knowing that I'm here could get me into trouble." _Or I could get Mokuba into more trouble,_ he thought.

"Nobody's forcing you," she said, but her silky voice only helped to lower Seto's resolve to leave.

Seto felt fingers brush against his thigh. Without taking his eyes off of Mai's face, he found her hand and trailed his up and down her forearm.

A stifled whisper of breath escaped from the woman's ruby lips.

Mai sat up, brushing Seto away from her skin, and gripped the shoulders of Seto's unbuttoned shirt.

Seto allowed her to slip the garment off of him, but when her hands drifted over his chest he stilled them.

Mai leaned forward and planted gentle kisses on the bare skin of Seto's chest.

After only a moment of the gentle but hungry sensation, Seto leaned back and pushed Mai away.

"I can't," he whispered, his gaze fixed on the sheets.

Mai flopped back onto her pillow, blushing with heat and wine. She didn't appear put off by Seto's denial as she smiled up at him.

"I love how sweet you are when it comes to your family. But I promise," she winked and mouthed a little kiss, "I won't tell him if you won't."

"You don't understand," Seto muttered.

Strands of her hair were tousled out of place, and her chest was covered in a glistening sheen. Seto knew her body was the epitome of female beauty and lustful attraction. Most men, he knew, would be drooling over the woman, disheveled as she was, like they would drool over a perfectly seared steak, starved and ready to tear into it the moment it was set before them.

Seto crawled beside Mai and laid his head on her pillow beside her. Without being prompted, Mai leaned into him, her temple resting against his bare shoulder.

"What don't I understand?"

"I _can't,_ " Seto repeated.

Mai met Seto's eyes and studied him a moment. Then her gaze drifted down his chest, and lower. She sat up with a start.

"You don't mean…" she began before bursting into an uproar of laughter. "You're kidding me! You… you really mean it? You _can't_?"

Seto sat up as well. He reached for his shirt but didn't slip into it. He considered telling the woman she didn't need to laugh about it, but didn't want to sound defensive. He knew he had no cause to feel embarrassed, but certainly didn't want to present himself as though he were.

"In all the years I've spent with men in my sheets, Kaiba, I can say with confidence that I've never been faced with a problem like _yours_ before," she said, dabbing at the corner of her eye. "I hope you know I'm not laughing _at_ you."

"Just about me," Seto said.

Mai pushed at his arm playfully. "Am I not hot enough for you?"

"You don't need me to tell you that isn't the case."

"Are you…" she started, but interrupted herself with a stifled fit of giggles. "Are you in need of… medical intervention?"

Seto scowled. He figured that had been the source of her amusement.

"I assure you, Miss Valentine, my equipment is functioning to its full potential. Honestly, woman. Isn't part of your job teaching health to adolescents? Can't you be a little more mature about the subject? I can't imagine you getting through a lecture if you're this subject to laughing fits."

Mai waved him off. "That's actually a middle school subject. My job focuses purely on fitness." She met his eyes again. "It's not your brother that's getting in the way, is it? Because I'm finding this a bit… _anti-climactic_ , and I admit I'll be a little frustrated if you're just worried about your kid."

Seto shook his head. "It's true that I would be concerned about the repercussions of sleeping with my dependent brother's schoolteacher, but I can promise you my family was the last thing on my mind while I let you start undressing me."

"I'm relieved to hear that, but it doesn't make _my_ problem go away."

"I can't—"

"I know. You can't help me." She smiled but the smile was dull, as if she had to force it. "There's someone else, isn't there?"

"Yes," Seto agreed before giving the question a thought.

"Then she's a lucky girl. You're not the first man I've lured into my room who had someone waiting for him at home. But it always ended the same, until now."

Seto furrowed his brows. Aside from a few brief encounters during his years at school, Seto hadn't dated much. Even those few relationship were short-lasted, and each had ended for reasons he could no longer remember. But there had certainly been no special woman in his life for some time, if there ever had been one to begin with.

But even if Seto's answer wasn't enough for him, it seemed to be enough for Mai, who relaxed and pulled him back down to the pillow with her.

"It's okay. We don't have to do anything."

Her voice was calm and gentle again, a sound Seto found soothing.

"I'm not sleeping here."

"Right, the kid at home. But… you could stay a little while, if you want to."

Seto refused to let his mind drift much of anywhere, for the fear of confusing the matter worse. He contented himself on staring at the intricate scroll work pattern woven into the covering of the bed. He and Mai lay beside each other for a long while, each slowly relaxing against the other.

"Hey," Mai said in a near whisper. "I had fun tonight. I'm glad you came out with me."

Seto answered with a wordless hum.

A sound chimed from the nightstand on Mai's side, where her clutch lay. She retrieved her cell phone and punched a button, silencing the sound.

"You can take the call if you need to," Seto said. He glanced at the floor near the door where he had dropped his own phone, wondering where exactly it had fallen.

"It wasn't important," she said.

By the new light shining on his face Seto knew Mai's phone was in hand. But the comfortable bed and relaxing quiet was making him feel tired and lazy, and he let himself stare out at the room while his attention on anything at all began to fade.

By the time Mai put her phone away and settled in beside Seto, tugging the blanket over her bare shoulders, Seto felt himself drifting and forced himself to sit up.

"Now what is it?" Mai asked, sounding irritated.

"I feel too comfortable here."

"Too comfortable?"

"I find you relaxing."

"You're falling asleep? We didn't even get a work out."

"I think it's time for me to leave," he said, forcing himself out of his laze. "Thank you for the evening out, Miss Valentine. It was a well-needed distraction."

Seto sat up and pulled on his shirt. He tracked down his shoes, wondering where he had dropped his phone. He spotted it behind the door where it must have bounced while they entered the room, Mai's hands all over him.

"You're always so proper. Well, since you're too distracted this evening, I'm going to change out of this dress. I trust you can find your way back out?"

Without another word Mai slipped out of bed and let her unzipped dress fall to the floor, leaving her in only her black lace undergarments. Instead of retrieving a nightgown or lingerie, however, the woman simply laid back on her bed atop the sheets.

Guessing that the woman was providing a show on purpose, Seto didn't make a point of looking away. Yet he didn't find himself glued to the sight, either. He laced up his shoes and found his jacket draped over a vanity table.

"Your apartment isn't complicated," Seto answered, tucking in his shirt and slipping on his jacket. "Goodnight, Miss Valentine. I do hope we can do business again in the future."

Mai clicked her tongue in disapproval. "That is _not_ a charming thing to say to a woman as you're leaving her bedroom, Mister Kaiba. I suggest you don't make a habit of it if you don't want to lose Miss Someone Else," she warned, but her tone held a playful edge.

Seto smirked, not caring to explain himself, or that his 'Miss' wasn't a miss at all. "I'll keep that in mind."


	42. Chapter 42

Seto arrived home late, but didn't feel tired. He walked into the kitchen to find a snack, but when he opened the cupboards he found mostly potato chips and canned goods, reminding him that someone needed to go shopping soon. He and Noa usually split that responsibility, but without Noa's ability to drive it all fell on Seto.

He abandoned the idea of a snack and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and retreated to the living room in search of his laptop.

He found it on Noa's lap while he lounged on the sofa. He hadn't noticed Noa when he entered the house, although the entryway had a clear view to the living room. He must have been lost in his thoughts, he realized.

"You're up late," Seto said, trying to hide the annoyance that he couldn't access his school notes if he couldn't use the computer.

"You were out late," Noa countered. "Did you ever take the time to chart the hours of workload KC is up against?"

"I did. The numbers are somewhat concerning, I will admit. But not so much that it has to stop me from taking Mokuba."

Noa let out a huff and leaned back on the sofa.

"You just won't drop it, will you?"

"And you just won't stop being pissy about it, will you?" Seto growled in a matching tone.

"And what am I supposed to do when you're gone?"

"You mean, without your chef and maid service?" Seto asked, swiping a pile of dirty clothes off the back of the couch so he could have a place to sit without touching them.

Noa flashed Seto an irritated look but said nothing.

The clothes were what Noa had been wearing that day. Seto guessed his twin hadn't wanted to hobble back to his bedroom to get changed into his nightclothes. Perhaps he had persuaded Mokuba to bring him his pajamas. He couldn't think of any other reason for a pile of clothes to be left out in one of the common areas.

He set the clothes on the stairs to take down to the laundry room later. They were still in the way and not where they belonged, but it was better.

"I thought about it," Seto said. "You'll still need to wear your boot by then, and there won't be anyone to drive you around if you need to go anywhere."

"Don't you dare say I should come with you."

"Mokuba doesn't need that kind of negativity at this event. And not that I care, but you would get bored." Seto _did_ care, but only to the point that he realized Noa being bored meant that he would complain incessantly. "I was thinking you should stay with somebody. A friend."

Noa was quiet and his gaze locked onto the wall above Seto's head.

"I'd have to spend some time considering who that could be."

"It's only four days. I won't mind if you decide to pay this person something for their troubles. It'll still be cheaper than a hotel and room service."

"Oh, you won't mind if I decide to take care of myself with my own paycheck? That's very considerate of you, jerkwad."

Seto huffed in frustration. He had meant that he would contribute from the house funds, but Noa's comment made him reconsider.

"Or, if you don't know anyone who could afford the time or space to let you stay with them, maybe you know someone who could stop by here a couple times a day."

"That's all the time _you_ ever spend at home," Noa shrugged. He seemed to be considering the idea. "Where were you all night, anyway?"

"All night?" Seto glanced at the clock on the kitchen microwave. It was only a pinch past midnight. "I wasn't out that late. I had dinner, and a little entertainment."

"I doubt you went out to a movie for _four hours_ ," Noa said.

For reasons Seto couldn't comprehend, Noa was scowling.

"There's nothing playing right now that interests me anyway. Find someone to help you out for a few days, Noa. This four day New York weekend is happening. You might want to suck it up."

"Piss off."

Seto couldn't take the irritation of dealing with his twin any longer. He spun on his heel and turned to the stairs.

"How much money did you spend tonight, anyway?"

"Nothing," Seto answered. While it wasn't technically true, he had regained what he'd spent. He wasn't about to tell Noa he had thirteen hundred dollars in his wallet. "Goodnight," he said with a bite in his tone, and headed upstairs to his room.

Seto sat down at his desk and took out his wallet. He counted the bills again to make sure he had the right number in his head. He certainly had no problems thinking of what he could do with the money, but he still had to make a decision.

He booted up his desktop and pulled up a spreadsheet he used for keeping track of his family's finances. Being KC's owner gave him a larger paycheck than Noa received, so naturally he was put in charge of the mortgage and utility bills, though Noa was expected to contribute. Mokuba would be when he was old enough to work a job, but Seto wouldn't worry about that yet.

He scanned through the list of items he knew needed addressing. He had a mild amount of credit card debt that his winnings would cover but he wouldn't be left with much afterward. He had budgeted steady payments on the card, so he didn't consider it. The home needed a few repairs that thirteen hundred dollars wouldn't even touch unless he were buying supplies to do it himself, a laughable concept.

Mokuba agreed to reimburse him the costs of the trip if he won, which Seto was determined to make happen, so he didn't worry about adding on some temporary extra expenses to his credit.

His business schooling was on a scholarship—though if he didn't catch up with his work soon he'd lose that scholarship and have to find a new way to fund finishing his degree. While he had taken out a loan for textbooks and other resources, he didn't need to worry about that until after graduation.

Seto finally landed on buying a car. He'd been saving up pitiful amounts off the top of his paycheck so far, but hadn't gathered much. If he combined his savings with his winnings he would add up to just shy of three thousand. It wouldn't buy him the greatest car, but if he hung on to Noa's car until his ankle were healed, he should be able to add a little more money to the pile from his own income.

By the time he needed one again, he ought to have one. When factoring in how many headaches and arguments he would save himself not having to share a car with Noa, a car seemed well worth the cost.

He punched some numbers into the spreadsheet, saved and closed it. With a deep, tired sigh, he pulled his business textbook out from under a pile of KC's paperwork and began to study. He read and worked and answered textbook questions until his eyes began to burn and his tired mind could no longer register the words he was reading.

He read until he knew he would pass out as soon as his head hit his pillow.

* * *

Five hours of sleep wasn't a lot, but Seto could feel he had slept deeply and without many dreams—none that he could remember. So when his alarm went off he rolled over and shut it off, feeling well enough like he could start his day.

After a shower Seto trudged down the stairs, the warm water having relaxed him a bit too much. He nearly walked into Noa, who had his cellphone pressed to his ear, as they both headed into the kitchen.

Noa startled at the near collision and stammered a quick goodbye over the phone and hung up. He gave Seto a shove and pushed past him into the kitchen, even though that meant Seto had to wait behind him as he hobbled through the doorway and toward the table.

A pleasing aroma was already wafting from the kitchen, which was a rarity if Seto wasn't the one cooking. He peered around Noa, ignoring his twin, and was surprised to see Mokuba at the stove, spatula in hand.

"Hey, bro! How was your… _not date_ last night?"

"Good morning," Seto chuckled, not sure he was ready to dive head-on into conversation so early. He stood at Mokuba's hip, and when the teenager set down his spatula he gave Seto a side-hug.

"It was better than I expected," Seto finally commented. "It ended weird, though."

"So do you think you'll be going back out for another not-date?"

"Definitely not. It was fine as a one time thing, but there's no reason to repeat it."

"Are you trying to teach our impressionable younger brother that it's okay to have one night stands?"

"Since when do you care what I teach him?" he defended, sidestepping Noa's attempt to take moral high ground. "And no. I did not have a one night stand. This was a platonic outing. Hence, _not_ a date."

As the memory of the blonde woman's body laying beneath him surfaced, Seto tried to push it away. He _knew_ he should find her attractive, but where was the familiar draw pulling him in? He shook himself out of his reverie. It may not have been a date, but the ending certainly was _not_ platonic.

"I did find out about a place I know you'd love, Mokuba."

"Oh yeah?"

"It's an underground gaming club. I'll have to take you there sometime. After the tournament, when we're not so busy."

"Oh, cool! Is it anything like the Mutos' shop?"

"It's nothing like the Mutos' shop. You'll love it."

"Can't wait to see it."

With nothing else to do Seto set the table with plates, utensils and glasses and waited for Mokuba to serve.

While Seto knew his own perfect, restaurant-style scrambled eggs were something to brag about, he didn't hold Mokuba's attempt up to his standard. They were, admittedly, a bit messier than Seto's, but there was no runny egg left uncooked like one of the last times he had tried to make breakfast, and he had seasoned them well. It made for a pleasant meal, especially since Seto hadn't had to make it.

Seto peered up at Noa, who had been quiet for most of the meal. "Who were you talking to on the phone, that you had to hang up so quickly?" he asked.

Noa shoved a mouthful of scrambled eggs in his mouth, likely so he could avoid answering immediately.

Seto made a show of watching him until he swallowed, so Noa would know his tactic was not unnoticed.

"Nobody important," Noa answered. When Seto continued to stare, he added, "I think I found someone to come over and help me while you're gone, like we talked about last night."

"While we're gone?" Mokuba perked up. "Seto, does that mean we're going?"

Seto nodded. "We're going."

"Yes!" he cheered. "Everything's okay at KC, then? And I can get excused from school?"

"Those issues are not your concern. I'll take care of it all."

"Awesome. I have to go tell my friends. They'll be psyched. Can I use the laptop?"

Mokuba had finished his breakfast before his brothers and was working on clearing the table when he asked.

"Shouldn't that wait until after school?" Noa asked.

Seto checked the clock. It was barely seven.

"Fine," he said to Mokuba. "I think I saw it in the living room last."

Mokuba dashed off without another word, dropping his dishes in the sink on the way.

"He's just excited. Besides, he made breakfast this morning, and still has some time to spare. Let him have his fun," Seto scolded his twin.


	43. Chapter 43

Seto and Noa finished breakfast in silence. Seto was the first to clear his plate. As he stood from the table and gathered his dishes he asked Noa, "Are you sure you weren't talking to someone important on the phone this morning?"

"It was just a coincidence, Seto! Drop it!"

Seto couldn't think of anyone Noa would have to talk to that he didn't want Seto knowing about, but the timing and Noa's stammering to end the call seemed off.

"Forget it. I'm going to work."

Seto reached the sink and began to rinse his dishes.

"Take me with you today," Noa demanded.

"There is not a chance in this world," Seto said, speaking over the running water, "that I would subject myself to being your chauffeur just so you can come to the shop and complain about things you can't control."

Noa followed him to the sink with his own dishes, but having to walk with a crutch slowed him down.

"I can do a lot more than you think."

"Can you sew?"

"...Not yet."

"Can you get out front and fit and measure customers?"

"It might be difficult, but I could try. Although it might send a bad image to the clients…"

"It wouldn't be a good idea. You're likely to hurt yourself worse. Can you take care of paperwork and billing, and ordering new inventory? Wait," Seto interrupted himself while he loaded the dishwasher, "You're not authorized for that. And even if you were, I'm taking care of all that today."

"But Seto, I could—"

"Forget it, Noa. You'll only be in the way. Pick up a book or something if you're that bored."

"I'm not bored. I'm impatient."

"Remember that you're the one who said that."

"I just don't like sitting around here thinking about all the orders that aren't getting done on time, and I just have to sit here doing nothing."

"We're keeping up as well as we can. I know how to prioritize, and I know a thing or two about diffusing sensitive situations. The clients are not getting that upset. Anyway, how will being useless in the shop be any better than being useless at home?"

"I am not useless!"

"And I am not participating in this argument. I'm not taking you until you can do something more than complain."

Seto left the kitchen before Noa could respond. On his way to the staircase he detoured through the living room and placed his large hand on Mokuba's head, just long enough for him to look up and smile.

It had always been that smile that helped him push through the bad days with Noa, and with his father before he died.

Seto returned to his room to finish getting ready for his day, and after a few moments of straightening himself in the bathroom mirror he noticed Mokuba in the doorway behind him.

"Do you need something?" Seto asked without turning around.

"Nah. Just wondering how your night went. I know you already talked about it but you didn't seem to want to say much in front of Noa."

"He reads too much into things. And gets offended far too easily."

"I know," he said flatly. "So? How was your 'platonic outing'?"

"Perhaps it wasn't _strictly_ platonic."

"I knew it," Mokuba smirked. "Did you kiss her?"

"We went back to her apartment."

"Whoa." Mokuba went wide-eyed and backed up a step. "I thought you said you didn't… do that."

"We didn't. I backed out. Something wasn't sitting right with me."

"Oh. Who is she? Anyone I know?"

"I know her from the shop. She's a client."

"There isn't some kind of rule against that?"

"Only against upper staff having personal involvement with employees. KC doesn't even have a policy about co-workers seeing each other."

"So why'd you back out? What was the problem?"

Seto shrugged. He was still asking himself that question.

"I was over-thinking. But she was being spontaneous and I don't think I was as interested as she thought I was."

"I hope you didn't tell her that."

"Does it matter? I'm not going to see her again."

"What happens if she comes back as a customer? Remember Miss Valentine and how much trouble she caused? If you pissed off some nice lady and it comes back to bite you, you're on your own."

Seto paused in tying his tie to look at Mokuba's reflection. "I remember Miss Valentine."

She had caused him problems. It would be enough to handle if his disappointing her the previous night became a problem for him, but as she was Mokuba's teacher Seto doubted he would be on his own like Mokuba claimed. She would certainly drag him into the mess.

But the night hadn't ended _badly_. It had only been anti-climactic.

"I don't think I have anything any worry about," Seto finally said.

"Good. So anyway, tell me about that gaming club you discovered."

"It pays."

"Like a tournament?"

"Somewhat. But on the other hand it's similar to gambling. I won a good bit of money."

"Ooh. How much do you consider 'a good bit'?"

"I came out twelve hundred dollars stronger than I went in. It's no lottery jackpot, but it was practically dropped in my lap."

"That's _sweet_ ," Mokuba chimed. _"_ I don't suppose they play CapMon at this club, do they?"

"It didn't seem so," Seto said, shaking his head. "Craps and poker, though."

"You mean like, real gambling?"

"Amateur gambling, I guess. I didn't check those tables out."

"But twelve hundred?"

"I had to spend a hundred just to get in, so my winnings were actually thirteen."

Mokuba whistled. "What are you gonna do with it? Ooh, can we go on a vacation?"

"We are going on vacation. I'm pulling you from school to go to New York. You were just bragging about it to your online friends five minutes ago. Or did you forget?"

"Of course not. So, Hawaii's out, then? I've always wanted to visit Japan, too. Maybe I just like islands."

"I was thinking, if it were okay with you," Seto added in a way that indicated Mokuba's vote didn't count for much, "that maybe I would put that money toward a decent car. If you don't mind."

" _Bo_ -ring," Mokuba groaned, but he smirked at Seto. "I guess you can get a—"

Seto interrupted him with a finger to his lips.

"Hey," Seto said, "not too loud. Don't tell Noa."

"Why not? He'll find out eventually, when you pull your new Lamborghini in the garage."

"Lamborghini? Ha," Seto laughed once. "I don't want him to know I have the money until I've already spent it. Otherwise he'll try to control what I do with it, even though he has no claim to it."

"Whatever. I guess I like Audi better anyway."

Seto grinned. "I'll get what I can afford that runs decently. So long as it's not a Civic."

"Noa has a Civic. What's wrong with it?"

"He'll tell me I'm just trying to copy him."

"You're probably right. Best to avoid Honda altogether, then."

Seto stepped out of the bathroom and bumped Mokuba with his elbow.

"I've got to get to work."

Mokuba glanced at his watch. "I've got a bus to catch. See you for dinner."

"See you."


	44. Chapter 44

Seto narrowed his eyes at the red flashing light on the answering machine as he walked into Kaiba's Coats. A recording before the shop opened usually only meant two things—either meant a potential customer had tried to call during the evening hours, or an employee had called in sick in the early morning.

He punched the 'play' button as he set down his briefcase beside Noa's desk and stripped off his jacket.

"Seto," came a gruff, pinched sounding voice. "This is Daimon. You have my apologies, but my back is in so much pain this morning I can barely sit up. I have an appointment with my chiro—"

Seto stopped the message and the machine sounded a loud _beep_.

"I get the point," he muttered. "You won't be in." He could listen to the rest later if he felt he needed more information.

He went about his normal tasks of setting up the shop: heating up the steamers first so they could warm while he worked on other things, then opening the cash register, turning on the shop's spotlights around the three-way mirrors, and organizing and sorting his employees' work for the day.

He filled the clothing bar beside each machine with a full day's work. He had discovered in the past that if he filled them with more than eight hours of work, then even if his workers didn't get everything done, they usually tried to, which typically resulted in faster output. It was a good way to keep his workers on target.

Seto made a full round about the shop checking and straightening various things before he realized that he had made a mistake, and had filled up Daimon's work bar anyway. With an irritated growl he stared at the bar and calculated how he could redistribute.

He put the bulk of the work on Atem's bar, less than half of Daimon's work but a larger portion than anyone else would get. He had to pull a few orders out of the day's work entirely and put them back on the main intake rack, which was a challenge for Seto to do knowing those garments needed to get done no matter how understaffed they were.

Seto was still moving garments around trying to find the best way to yolk everyone's strength when the front bell rang. He glanced at the clock, saw it wasn't nine yet, and ignored the sound. He hadn't flicked on the 'open' sign yet anyway.

"Good morning, Sir," Rebecca chimed from behind him.

Seto looked up from Joseph's workload, breaking away from trying to decide if the man was ready for a harder project he had no one else to assign.

"Mm-hmm," was his only response.

Rebecca took her station and began setting up, punched in and began her work.

"We're busy today, aren't we?" she asked, thumbing through the work on her rack.

"Daimon isn't coming in," Seto said, finally having made a decision and left the order at Joseph's station. It would be good for him to be given a chance to grow, and if he needed help someone could walk him through it. "And we're falling behind as it is."

Seto realized that the only people with experience enough to walk Joseph through a new alteration, and would actually be showing up, were Cicero and Vivian.

The bell chimed again and Yugi and Joseph strolled into the room together.

Seto stared at Yugi as he walked past him at Joseph's station alone.

"Do not tell me Atem isn't coming in today, Yugi," Seto demanded.

Yugi spun around and looked at his employer, eyes wide and bright.

"He's running late. He told me to go on without him."

"Late is not acceptable. If he were going to be late he ought to have called."

"I'm sorry," Yugi said as he set down his items and hung up his jacket. "I'll let him know."

"How late is he expecting to be?"

The bell rang again and Cicero walked in, apologizing for being late himself when he clearly wasn't yet.

Seto gave Yugi a pointed glare.

Cicero was shortly followed in by Vivian, and Seto had taken to sorting the week's intake bar into daily work, trying to save time for himself in the future by dividing it up by employee now. When he was only half-way done the bell chimed again.

"Are we open?" Atem asked tentatively a moment later.

Seto spun around, glad to finally see him but angry at the same time.

"Are we open? What kind of question is that?" Seto asked, making a point of looking at the clock, which read ten after nine.

"I'm sorry," Atem said, taken aback. "I was only asking because the sign's not on."

Seto scowled and turned back to the intake bar. "Then turn it on! Can't you see I'm a little busy? It doesn't take a keyholder to be able to push a button on a sign."

"Yes, Sir…" Atem agreed, but watched his employer carefully.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Seto said.

Atem shook his head and retreated to the front room.

When Atem returned Seto had trouble looking at the man. He let him go about unpacking his things for the day and setting up his machine. When all his employees had gotten to work Seto glanced at their bars throughout the day to check if any of the new hires needed any prompting or prodding to move faster. But each time he tried to check Atem's station, he found it just as hard to look his way.

After most of the staff had taken their lunch breaks and Seto was running short on projects for the day, Vivian approached him.

"Mister Kaiba?" she asked, clearly more accustomed to using the title on his father. "I think I have a problem."

"I'm sure you can handle it, Miss Wong."

"I would love to say I'm capable of it, sir, but I do need some guidance."

"What is it?"

Vivian handed him a packet of paper that served as an order form for a custom garment. She pointed to a box in the corner with neat cursive handwriting he recognized as Noa's, written in red ink with stars scribbled around it. It read, " _Customer requests red accent buttonhole_ _and button_ _thread._ "

"This item isn't due until tomorrow. You have other work that takes precedence. I don't understand why you're showing this to me now."

Vivian pointed to a blue colored tab around the base of the hook of the wire hanger that held the item's pattern.

"I noticed this and wanted to check if the special thread had been set aside with the order, but it wasn't."

"So? When you get to this order, find yourself some red thread. I don't see what the issue is."

Vivian let out a sigh. "The blue tab means that the order needs something special, like a zipper or buttons, or in this case, thread."

"According to whom?"

Vivian pursed her lips. "I suppose Noa didn't tell you about the system before he broke his ankle. We've been using these tags for a few years. The system was his idea, and he usually flipped through the week's work to find all the blue tags and make sure the order has whatever it needs in stock. If not, then he has time to order it before the garment is due."

"And you expect me to find you red thread?" Seto asked, glancing at the rack of spools in shades of red on the back wall.

Vivian followed his gaze, but shook her head. "I can't use regular sewing thread to sew on buttons. I need button thread. Waxed thread."

"We're all out of waxed red," Cicero chimed in. "I used the last of it on that Pegasus's order."

"Can't you use a different kind of thread?" Seto asked.

Vivian shrugged. "Technically. Nothing else holds up as well."

Vivian pointed to the flat cardboard skeins of waxed thread in various colors hanging from a hook on another wall.

"Your father wouldn't have allowed it," Cicero said.

"Did anyone check the supply closet?" Seto asked.

Cicero shook his head. "We've got some waxed thread, but most of it's just extra black and grey, maybe some olive. I put it on the supply list as soon as we ran out, but I guess it wasn't time to order yet."

"I only check that list once a week," Seto explained.

"I guess Noa should have told you to check the blue tags?" Vivian said timidly.

"Anyone could have told me about the blue tags," Seto growled.

"You seemed like you were keeping things under control, Sir," Cicero said, having put down his work entirely. "I didn't want to interfere."

Vivian nodded as though she felt the same.

Seto forced out a breath and covered his forehead and eyes with his hand. He itched to glance up at Atem, just to see if he was watching him struggle. He imagined crimson eyes staring intently at him, and the thought made his cheeks grow hot.

"If this precious waxed thread has to be ordered, we can't get it locally, I presume?"

Cicero stifled a bark of laughter. "Our craft is a dying art. I don't know of _any_ store that sells the stuff, let alone around here."

"Delivery from our suppliers usually only takes three or four days, but the order's due tomorrow," Seto said, thinking out loud. "Let me see the order form again."

Vivian handed him the sheet.

"This seems like it should be a small issue," Vivian said, to which Seto nodded in agreement. "But I know this man. He doesn't come around often but he's been coming for a long time."

"And you think he's going to have an issue with anything other than what he specified?" Seto asked, though he figured he knew the answer.

"Yes, Sir."

"What's the name?" Cicero asked.

"Von Schroeder."

Cicero whistled. "He's not gonna be happy without what he specified."

"I could guess," Seto said. "I've met the man. We're close in age, but he insists on lording himself over everyone he encounters."

"Isn't he some sort of foreign dignitary, or something?" Cicero asked.

"He'd like to let you think so, I'm certain. But, in fact, he's actually a businessman. I don't recall what kind of company he runs, but it isn't small."

"I'm sorry about this, Boss," Vivian said. "If I had known you didn't know the blue tag system earlier I'd have said something."

"I'll pass the blame to my brother. Just for fun," Seto said, getting a small smirk from Vivian. "This is a rather escalated situation spawning from _waxed thread_ ," he muttered as he headed to the phone.

He dialed the number for KC's supplier and asked to speak to a manager, while paging through the catalog to find the item number for the thread. He pointed the skein out to Vivian, who nodded and gave a thumbs up.

"Hello," Seto said when he was connected. "I'm the owner of Kaiba's Coats, and we have an emergency situation."

Seto scowled at the laughter on the other end.

"What kind of 'emergency'?" the woman asked.

"I need an item ordered, but I need it in my shop today."

The line went quiet.

"I'm sorry, sir," the woman said, but there was still a hint of laughter in her voice when she spoke. "That can't be done."

"I assumed you would tell me as much. Can you send an order with overnight shipping?"

"We only offer standard shipping, sir. But our products usually only take three—"

"I personally have ordered with you weekly for months now. I know how your shipping _usually_ works. If I could work with 'usual' today I wouldn't be calling to talk to you, I would be placing my order. I want to know what it will take to get a skein of waxed thread in my shop before closing tomorrow evening."

"We don't typically deal with rush orders, sir."

Seto growled. "My father has used your company to buy all of his supplies for twenty years. But if you can't help me in a pinch, I would be more than happy to buck tradition and find a company who can. You are not the only company on earth who supplies _waxed thread_."

"I suppose… we could try to overnight it, if it's just a small order."

"One skein."

Seto rattled off the item number from the magazine in his hand. He could hear the sound of a keyboard in the background, and then there was a pause.

"May I call you back in, say, a half hour?"

"Make it twenty minutes."

"I can do that."

"And if you don't call me back, you'll hear from me."

"Noted. Thank you, sir. We'll do what we can. Goodbye."

The woman ended the call and Seto returned the cordless phone with a smirk.

"Do you need to call the client to tell him his order may be delayed?" Vivian asked.

"Are you joking? We have until the end of the day tomorrow to get his order done. I'm not calling him until I know for a fact it cannot be done on time. The less he knows, the better. Put down what you're working on and begin his order. You can pick up the rest when you've reached the point where you need that waxed thread."

"Yes, Sir," Vivian said.

As she returned to her station, Seto finally dared a glimpse toward the back of the shop. He was not surprised to meet those crimson eyes he swore he could feel earlier, but he was nonetheless pierced by them.


	45. Chapter 45

"Was Daimon not feeling well today?" Atem asked as Seto began to review the work at the end of the day.

The clock read just past five and nearly everyone had begun to pack up their stations. But Atem lingered, following Seto around the room with his eyes whenever he could afford to look up from his machine.

"His back is out. He can't sit up," Seto answered. He peered over his shoulder at Atem when he realized the man's machine was still running. "You aren't packing up?"

Atem shook his head as Joseph slapped him on the shoulder and headed out. "I thought I might stay to make up for this morning. If that won't impact you too much, that is. Goodnight, Joseph," he called after the man.

"I'll be here for a little bit anyway. I plan to work on school lessons until my evening class. So tell me why you were late."

"Honestly?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I was willing to accept a lie."

"I overslept because I was up too late."

"That's your reason?" Seto scoffed. "Next time, set a louder alarm. I won't let this slide more than once."

"I appreciate the slack, Sir."

"It's not slack. I just can't afford to dismiss you right now. I might regret asking this, but what was so important that it kept you up so late?"

Atem chuckled. "I was trying to decide between strategies with which to build my Magic and Wizards deck."

Seto was quiet as he scribbled on his clipboard. Vivian and Cicero had managed to succeed in finishing their workloads even though Seto had overfilled their bars, but Joseph had needed some instruction and time to re-do some of his work in the afternoon, so what the two veteran employees gained him in finished work Joseph and Yugi both ate into.

"If you need me to keep working after I've made up my time, I can," Atem said when Seto hadn't responded.

"I am not inclined to offer unneeded overtime hours. Unfortunately, at this time they're not unneeded and I don't seem to have much of a choice. So if you're choosing to punish yourself for being late, I won't deny you the pleasure tonight."

As if in response to Seto's last words, he heard a sound from Atem's direction that may have been a cough, although it sounded more like a muted chuckle and it made Seto's face grow warm for the second time that day.

"Do you have a way to get home?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Seto glanced at Yugi, whose station was nearly packed up. Yugi clearly wasn't planning to wait for his cousin, and Seto didn't feel like he could manage through an entire ride home with Atem in the car.

"I have bus fare. Not to worry."

"Fine, then. Keep working until you're done with your order. If you have any questions, I believe Vivian and Cicero will be staying."

"Sorry, Boss," Cicero replied. "I can't. It's my kid's birthday. I'll be leaving in just a bit."

Seto finished tallying the work hours for the day and found that despite the new hires dragging a bit they had managed to come out ahead. As his employees gradually left one by one, leaving only Atem and Vivian in the room together, Seto slipped into the front to avoid Atem's gaze.

He thought, as he began to close down the cash register for the day, that he had to be imagining how often he felt those eyes following him. He had managed to push his encounter with Mai out of his mind, especially when the shop kept him busy enough. But his thoughts couldn't seem to stop drifting to _him_.

* * *

"Noa," Seto said when he arrived home, "what is the 'blue tag system'?"

Noa put down a catalog he was thumbing through and looked up at him.

"It's the system I put in place a few years ago to help Father know which orders needed things like special buttons or zippers, or—"

"Or thread?"

"Yeah. I don't know why you're asking. You've seen me use it a bunch of times. You should know what it's for by now."

"I've also seen you sit down at a machine and make a garment before. By that logic I should be able to do so for myself by now, shouldn't I?"

"That's stupid. It takes years of sewing practice to get to the level where you could make something passable. You'd need someone to actually walk you through it and explain what they're doing, to start."

"So you're not expecting me to learn just by hoping I'm observing and paying attention to every detail?"

"Of course not."

"Then why should I be expected to know anything about this 'blue tag system'?"

Noa let out an irritated snort. "If something happened in the shop today because I wasn't there like I wanted to be, it's your fault for not taking me."

"Rather, something happened today because you didn't think to fill me in on details like that system when I first took on the job, so I could order an item to arrive on time."

"You've been too busy gallivanting around with women to pay attention when I tell you things."

"I don't see what that _one_ outing has to do with anything. Are you saying you told me about the system and I didn't hear you?" Seto baited, though he thought it was doubtful.

"No, but if I had—"

"If you had, I would have paid attention because even if I'm not interested in the shop, I'm also not interested in making it harder on myself to run it than necessary."

Noa rolled his eyes and returned to his magazine, his resistance to admitting that he had lost the battle.

"I'm guessing that if this issue wasn't something major you wouldn't be bringing it up?" Noa asked, not looking at his twin.

"It's not that major. I'm having the company overnight me the item. But if it comes near the end of the day and the client wants his order sooner—"

"The item's due _tomorrow_ and you still don't have the items you need for it?"

"It's a single coat for von Schroeder. Vivian and Cicero tell me I can't get around using this waxed thread for his buttons, so I ordered it with rush shipping."

Noa set down his catalog and stared at Seto, his mouth hanging open just a fraction.

" _Von Schroeder_. You screwed up _Seigfried von Schroeder's_ order."

"Nobody screwed anything up. Except you, in not telling me about a time-sensitive system. It will get fixed."

"I'm going with you tomorrow."

"Didn't we just have that discussion? There's no need."

"There is now. You'll have to pacify him if his order isn't ready when he comes to pick it up."

"He should wait for the phone call telling him it's ready like everyone else."

"He won't, I promise you. He'll probably come in, halfway through the day, and… and—" Noa put a hand to his forehead. "And you will _not_ know how to pacify him."

Seto threw his hands up.

"You know what? If you're so convinced this is going to cause such a problem, but you're volunteering to fix it, fine. Whatever. Come with me and handle it yourself, I don't care. While you're talking with him I might as well bring my school work again and do something that actually feels worthwhile with my time. I sure as hell am getting nowhere with this shop."

Noa's response was a self-righteous smirk.

Seto forced himself to ignore the expression and leave the room. He trudged up the stairs to his bedroom, abandoning any thoughts of a family dinner. He closed the door, threw his briefcase on the bed and dropped into his computer chair.

He stared at the blank black screen for a few minutes, his head whirling with the many things he would have loved to say to his twin rather than giving in. But as the words kept coming, he had to force himself to calm before his anger got the best of him and he threw something. He didn't want to risk breaking anything in his own room. It wouldn't be worth the split-second of satisfaction.

Seto would just have to insist that playing music the entire way to the shop in the morning would be part of the deal of taking him. There would be no surviving it otherwise, if Noa were given the airspace to gloat about his brilliance and capacity for handling the situation to come.


	46. Chapter 46

A/N: Thank you everybody for supporting this story! I can't tell you how much I appreciate the reviews and traffic and favorites/follows.

Last week Monday marked one year since I published the first chapter. I think that's cool. For a couple of weeks, at least, I should be able to be on a weekly posting schedule. Probably Sundays.

Now, on to number forty-six!

* * *

Eventually Seto turned on his computer and waited for it to boot up. He checked his budgeting spreadsheets first, making sure he'd managed to pay everything on time, both at home and at the shop.

After a little math, Seto realized that while the revenue from Kaiba's Coats was paying its own bills and the staff paychecks, the amount left over for Seto's take-home pay was dwindling.

"Too many dissatisfied people are refusing to pay for their orders," Seto pondered aloud.

The statements he was looking at covered the previous month, from before Noa had broken his ankle. The records showed that Noa had been involved in a large percentage of the discounts given. He knew it didn't help that his inexperienced workers were also an inefficient use of company funds.

With Noa not working, the workload would pile up—leaving even more customers dissatisfied. But Noa also wouldn't be able to bring a paycheck home, which would interfere with his ability to contribute to the household bills.

He had to talk to Noa about it, but not tonight.

A knock sounded at his bedroom door, which was already ajar, and Mokuba poked his head in.

"Is it okay for me to come in?" he asked.

Seto nodded without looking away from the screen.

Mokuba waltzed in with a plate covered in aluminum foil.

"You didn't see your dinner in the kitchen?" Mokuba asked.

Seto finally closed out of the spreadsheets and looked up. There was nothing he could do about it now, anyway.

"I didn't make it to the kitchen," he explained.

"Well, you should have. I made dinner. Since you got home late I made a plate for you and put it in the fridge."

"You made dinner?" Seto asked, glancing at the plate when Mokuba held it out.

"It's not poison," he said.

"But is it _edible_? It doesn't have to be poison to be inedible."

Mokuba balled up the napkin in his other hand and threw it at Seto.

"I used Mother's recipe!"

While the napkin didn't go far enough to hit him, Seto caught it before it hit his bedroom floor, and flattened it out.

"And I worked on it from the minute I got home from school," Mokuba continued. "You didn't get home to eat it when it was hot. I hope you like microwaved potatoes."

Seto took the plate and silverware before Mokuba had a chance to throw those too.

"You cooked potatoes?"

"With gravy. And a _roast_."

Seto lifted the foil, steam rising in a geyser from the corner. The plate was filled with a large cut of roast beef, potatoes and steamed vegetables.

"Enjoy," Mokuba spat as he spun around and walked to the door.

"Mokuba, wait. I'm sorry. I was only teasing."

Seto uncovered the plate and set the foil aside, letting the smells of the food waft into the air. His stomach, which he had been forcibly ignoring, growled audibly.

"This smells amazing."

He took a bite of broccoli. It was softer than he preferred it, but he decided to attribute that to the extra cook time from the microwave. He hated how the machine's efficiency tended to ruin a lot of foods. But still, it was far better than the stock of protein bars he kept in his drawer for when he was too busy to deal with cooking.

"And it tastes good, too."

"Really?" Mokuba asked, leaning against the doorway.

Seto let the plate rest on his desktop so he could cut a slice of the roast. He meant to take a quick bite so he could answer, but the flavor made him chew more slowly.

"You really did use her recipe," Seto finally said when he had swallowed.

"You can tell?"

"I used to help her cook. I know some of her secret ingredients. Trust me, I can tell."

"I was just looking up a recipe from the books on the shelf, but there were notes in the margins."

Seto put his utensils on his plate and stood up.

"Come here," he said, and Mokuba did.

Seto wrapped the teenager in a hug, something he did only on rare occasions these days. But he couldn't help but be reminded of himself while watching the boy shake after he'd thrown the napkin at him. He knew he could be setting a better example.

Mokuba let himself be held, the tension in his posture melting as Seto calmed him.

"Something's up with you," Seto said into Mokuba's hair. "What's wrong?"

Mokuba was silent for a breath but eventually pulled away, and Seto let go. He pulled his shaggy black hair back and tied it with a huff.

"I don't know." He stood in the middle of the room fidgeting.

"Do you mind if I sit down and eat while you think about it?"

"No, go ahead. I don't want you to have to microwave it again."

Mokuba took the gesture as permission to sit himself, and he plopped on the edge of Seto's bed. Seto swiveled his chair to face him.

"I'm going to lose the tournament," Mokuba said finally.

"What makes you say that?"

"I've hardly practiced with my new deck."

"Neither have I."

"But you got to go to that club, where you won all that money."

"It was only a few games."

"That's more than I've played."

"Why is that? You can go over to that game shop if you want to. I'll drive you this weekend if you make plans."

"I don't know if I want Yugi and Atem to know my deck yet."

"That's an understandable strategy, but is it worth skipping your practice?"

Mokuba put a leg up on the bed and toyed with his shoelaces.

"What?" Seto pushed.

"They're not really the people I want to practice with."

"Then who?"

Mokuba glanced up at Seto.

Seto returned his fork to the plate and wiped his face with the crumpled napkin.

"Mokuba, you know I've been—"

"I know, you've been busy. But are you sure you aren't going to be too busy to go when the time comes?"

"I'm making plans for it. I already told you, you're going. Therefore, so am I. If I have to do homework or accounting on the airplane, then so be it."

"But will it even matter if we're not prepared?"

Seto glanced back at his computer screen and checked the time.

"Hey, I've got an exam scheduled tomorrow evening, but I got all my work done for tonight. There's still an hour before you should be in bed. Why don't we play now?"

Mokuba glanced at the clock himself, as if he didn't believe Seto.

"Really? You mean it?"

"No, I just thought it would be amusing to get your hopes up and then dash them."

Mokuba stared at Seto, who wondered what the teenager would do if he had something in his hands he could throw.

But he only stuck his tongue out and jumped off the bed.

"I'll go grab my deck then!"


	47. Chapter 47

After a nearly unbearable drive in to Kaiba's Coats, Noa refusing to adhere to Seto's rule for silence, the twins arrived. Seto helped Noa out of the passenger seat of the car, but left him at the shop's front door to hobble along alone while he began the start-up process. They had arrived "late" by Noa's standards and Daimon had already unlocked the shop.

"You must be feeling better," Seto greeted Daimon.

"Enough to sit up again. I'm sorry, but I couldn't lift the gallon of water to fill the steamers."

"I'll take care of it," Seto said, cracking open a new gallon of purified water and beginning the task. "Did we receive a delivery this morning?"

"No, Sir. Were we supposed to?"

"I have a small package coming sometime today. I paid extra for rush shipping, so it had better get here on time. If I'm occupied when it arrives make sure Vivian gets it on her desk immediately."

"Yes, Sir."

Noa finally made it into the room, claiming to have stopped and straightened some bolts of fabric on the way.

"Noa," Daimon greeted, "I'm surprised to see you."

Noa smiled. "I can't sew yet, but I wanted to help today."

Seto rolled his eyes while he unpacked at his—rather, Noa's—station.

"Hey, where am I going to sit if you're at my desk?" Noa protested on his way to the time clock.

"You can sit out front and greet the customers. Then you can warn me if von Schroeder walks in."

Seto looked up just in time to see Noa reaching for his time card.

"What are you doing?" Seto demanded, stopping him.

"What are you talking about?" he shrugged, beige card in hand.

"You're not punching in today."

"Why? I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here to handle one issue, which you insisted on handling. You'll be in the way if you try to do much of anything else. Why should I pay you to sit out front to chit-chat and do crossword puzzles on your phone?"

Noa stared at Seto, holding his card half-way out of the slot on the wall.

"If you're not helping with production you're not a useful member of the team. I won't be able to afford to pay you or anyone else if I operate that way."

" _Fine_ ," Noa growled, slamming the card back into its slot and limping away, barely leaning on his crutch in order to move slightly faster.

Noa straightened suddenly as he walked past Daimon's desk, as if he remembered suddenly that Daimon was in the room. Although he wasn't looking up from his work he had heard the whole scene.

"You're right," Noa conceded in a more gentle tone as he walked past Seto. "I shouldn't have assumed."

Seto fought the urge to roll his eyes again. He brushed the fake encounter off as Noa left the back room.

"Are you seeing a professional for your back, Daimon?"

"Now that I can move again, at least a little, I've made an appointment to see someone next week."

"Will that take you out of work?"

"It's an evening appointment."

"If you can arrange for an appointment earlier in the week I won't complain. I would rather lose out on a few hours of your hard work in order to have you feeling better sooner. I would hate for you to miss another whole day."

"I will see about it, Sir."

Seto remembered Vivian's offer to use her family's "secret tradition" to help Daimon's back, and almost considered letting her. It had worked once before, and KC couldn't afford many more workers taking sick days.

The job came with no full-time benefits, like many small tailoring shops, but that had bothered Seto to discover. Of course, everyone needed to be able to afford their healthcare, but Gozuaburo's excuse was that his shop paid higher wages than many other tailoring jobs, in the area or elsewhere.

While denying benefits kept some costs lower, not taking care of long-term employees wasn't a highly efficient use of resources. There would always be more money so long as there were customers, but some good workers were hard to replace.

Seto was learning that the long hours, stress, and low physical activity that came with the job made many workers need to retire before their time. It was an issue Seto aimed to fix someday, if the shop belonged to him long enough to find a solution. But right now he had to focus on staying afloat.

* * *

"Hey, Boss," Noa sang, popping his head into the workroom in the early afternoon.

Seto had nearly forgotten about his twin, his presence had been so unusually vacant.

"What do you want?"

"One of our young customers has a proposition for you. Wanna jump out here?"

"No," he muttered honestly. But he set down his catalog and headed for the door anyway.

Three people besides himself occupied the front room. Noa who stood near the door, a tall man he had seen before who spoke in an accent he couldn't place, and a thin young man he was certain he'd never met. He looked to be close to Mokuba's size, so Seto presumed they were close in age as well.

"What can I do for you?" Seto asked unenthusiastically, glancing at each of the three men in turn.

The tall man spoke first, though with a degree of hesitation.

"My younger brother seems to be taking un interest in your wares."

"If you're looking for a suit, Noa will gladly set you up with a fitting appointment," Seto said to the young man.

"I think you misunderstand me, Herr Kaiba."

Seto's mind finally clicked at the use of 'herr', but wondered why the accent hadn't sounded fully German.

"That isn't it," the boy said, speaking up.

Seto found it strange that the boy didn't carry much of the accent at all. It was there in the pronunciation of his vowels, but he suspected that it was only detectable after hearing the older brother speak first.

"Then what?"

"Seto," Noa pitched in, "This is Herr Schroeder," he said, gesturing to the older. "And his brother Leon. Leon is interested in working with us. I suggested he speak with you."

Seto eyed the young man, who nodded eagerly. Then Seto glanced up at Siegfried, whose name had come to him as well. The man appeared entirely bored, perhaps a touch impatient.

 _Not as impatient as you're going to be when you hear we haven't finished your order yet,_ Seto thought.

"How old are you?" was Seto's first question for Leon.

"Fifteen," Leon said with a grin, as if he assumed Seto was considering the request.

Rather, Seto was searching for reasons not to consider it. He had already found one.

"US labor laws require a person to reach the age of sixteen before employment."

"I know that. I—"

Seto cut him off. "Do you know anything about sewing?"

"I used to watch my grandmother while she sewed. We were very close."

"Did she teach you?"

Leon gave an embarrassed looking shrug. "My mother wouldn't allow it. But I have always held an interest."

"Then may I ask why you're here, if your own mother forbids it?"

"Ah. My mother and grandmother are in our home country. My father moved here on business a few years ago. I have citizenship."

"And yet," Siegfried muttered under his breath, almost too quietly to hear if the room hadn't been so still, "you wish to squander this gift of opportunities learning a servant's work?"

Noa gave the man a sharp look, but Siegfried didn't seem to notice. Seto had nothing to say to the comment—he almost agreed with it himself.

"We aren't looking for any more sewers right now," Seto responded. "Perhaps if you leave Noa with your phone number, we can call you if anything comes up."

"Really? I thought I saw an advertisement online."

"It's outdated. We currently have no open machines. My workroom is filled around the clock."

"Wow, Mister Kaiba. You must be busy."

Seto nodded, "We'll call you if anything comes up," he repeated.

"But!"

"Let it _go_ , Leon!" Siegfried said.

"No! I did not come all this way with you to not give it my best shot. Mister Kaiba, I want you to know I would be willing to work from the ground up. You wouldn't have to start me on a machine. I could take care of all the grunt work the more experienced sewers are too busy for."

"The term is _tailor_ ," Seto and Noa said in unison.

The twins, both taken aback, stared at one another in a glimpse of stunned silence. Then Seto caught a glint of something steel in Noa's eyes.

"Mister Schroeder," Noa said, looking at the younger. "Kaiba's Coats _cannot_ legally take on an employee under the legal age."

"I know that. I'm willing to wait for my birthday. It's only a few months away."

"Leon, was it?" Seto asked, and the boy nodded. "I suggest you take your brother's advice and let it go. You've already received your answer. Now, Mister Schroeder," he said, turning to Siegfried, "if you're here about an order Noa will continue to work with you. Leon can take a seat in the waiting area quietly until you're finished."

"Yes, I do have a garment scheduled for pickup."

Even though his crutch leaned against the desk a few feet away, Noa took a half-step forward.

"On behalf of Kaiba's Coats, Herr Schroeder, I must apologize. We are nearly done with your order but there was an unfortunate mix-up with our supply company, and we ran short on the waxed thread you requested for your buttons. Now, we have an order on the way with another skein, so we will finish the garment before the end of the day. However, if you want us to finish your order while you wait, we can let you pick a different color—"

"If I wanted to pick another color," von Schroeder said darkly, "I wouldn't have specified the color I chose when I made my order _two months ago_."

"I completely understand," Noa said calmly, "and I agree. Unfortunately, there isn't anything we can do to progress until our package arrives. But we will let you know as soon as your coat is finished. We do have the pants completed for you already, if you would like to try those on."

"Why were you not able to have this request met already?"

Noa glanced at Seto.

"There was an oversight," Seto said, returning the glance, "for which Kaiba's Coats takes responsibility."

"Obviously, _you_ knew this was an issue before I entered your establishment. Why was I not informed?"

"We had been under the impression that our order would have arrived by now," Noa answered. "But I'm very sorry that we were not prepared for you like we should have been. How can we make this right?"

"How? That is very simple, and should not require asking. You are late with my order, and have wasted my time. There is only one way to ensure me that this will never happen again, or I will not be able to return."

"I'm so sorry to hear that you feel that way, sir," Noa continued, nodding that he understood. "Of course, we will be giving you a partial refund on your order. I hope you can feel more comfortable with fifteen percent off your total. And we will be taking the necessary measures to ensure this doesn't happen again."

"Fifteen sounds reasonable," Siegfried commented, "for someone who has _not_ spent thousands upon thousands of dollars at this establishment. I will not settle for less than thirty-five."

"Hold on," Seto stepped in. "I have to decline this offer. Noa is only an employee here and has no authority to offer such an arrangement, even at fifteen percent."

"Seto, this was Father's policy. He always—"

Seto ignored his twin and met the other man's eyes. "Gozaburo Kaiba passed his business down to me, and I am afraid I cannot redeem such an agreement."

"Then your subordinates should know better than to proffer one," Siegfried scoffed.

Seto glare pointedly at Noa. "I agree. For _that_ , you have my apology. However, on the issue of your order being "late", I have personally seen that the due date posted on your order is today. But the last time I checked, Kaiba's Coats is open until five in the evening, Mister Schroeder."

" _Herr_ Schroeder," the man corrected, his accent thick and his nose in the air. "In my country, I am ranked by your word _lord_."

Seto ignored him.

"Since you did not schedule a specific pick-up time, then we are not late, and therefore not obligated to inform you of the order's status until it is finished. Nor are we able to accommodate any refunds on the basis of a misunderstanding."

"I cannot afford the time to wait on a phone call! My garment should have been done today!"

"Your order _will_ be done today," Noa said, but Siegfried paid him no mind.

"I can certainly relate to feeling disdain over wasted time," Seto spat. "But we tell every client before they leave that they will receive a call when their order is ready for pickup, which in turn means that it is _not_ ready until said call is made. So next time I suggest that you follow our policies and wait patiently until we call you."

After a long pause, Siegfried said darkly, "We're finished here. Come little brother."

His long coat swung neatly around his ankles as he spun and walked away. Leon followed quietly behind, peering at the display models as he trudged through the store.

"Leon," Seto called after the boy. "If you manage to get some qualified training by the time your birthday comes along, we might have a different answer for you."

Leon responded with a grin. "Yes sir!"

"What was that about?" Noa asked when the customers had gone, staring after them.

"I think we pissed him off. Even though he clearly didn't want his brother working here, and the misunderstanding was not our fault."

"No, I meant _you_. We were kind of in sync back there. It was… odd."

Seto stared at his twin, so different from himself. The symbiosis had amused him somewhat at the time, and he thought about saying so, until Noa had taken such a drastically different approach to pacifying an unruly customer.

Now he thought better of it. Did Noa not realize how out of line he was in offering any of the business's money back to anybody without Seto's permission?

"I have work to do." Seto said, just to get away from the mess his twin had created.


	48. Chapter 48

Not twenty minutes after the von Schroeder brothers had left, a man in a postal uniform came through the door carrying a small yellow envelope. Seto signed off on it and carried it to the back, Noa on his trail.

He picked up the cordless phone on his way through the room. He navigated to Vivian's desk and opened the package, which he had paid an astronomical amount to have shipped next-day.

Vivian didn't wait for him to finish tearing open the envelope. She grabbed the edge of the cardboard skein as soon as it was visible and slid it out of the packaging. She set aside the garment she was working on immediately.

"Thanks, Boss. I'm on it."

Seto crumpled the paper envelope and tossed it in the nearest trashcan while Vivian finished packing up the order she was working on and pulled out Siegfried's coat.

"In case you didn't hear the encounter, the pompous gentleman in question already came."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure you can guess, but he wasn't happy. How quickly can you get this done?" he asked, checking the tag on the order for the man's phone number and dialing.

"Give me ten, maybe fifteen minutes, tops."

"For just ten buttons? I thought sleeve buttons were all strung together."

"Yes, Sir. But I still have to finish sewing the sleeve lining around the cuffs of the sleeves. Then I have the two front buttons as well."

Seto stopped punching buttons on the phone and looked down at Vivian.

"Didn't I tell you to get as far as you can on this order without—"

Noa was beside Seto before he realized his twin was there, with a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll have to excuse my dear, ignorant brother, Vivian. You know what you're doing, just don't dawdle. Seto isn't familiar with the methods."

"No problem," Vivian shrugged like she was already past it, and got busy with her order.

"May I see you out front, Noa?" Seto said through clenched teeth.

Seto led him out front, glad to see the shop was empty.

"What the hell was that?" Seto barked when the door between the front and back was properly closed.

"I wanted to ask you the same thing," Noa said as he made his way to Seto.

"A question to which you have no right to ask."

"And you have the right to talk down to employees who know more than you do about our craft? She knew exactly what she was doing."

"This is not your issue to butt into."

"You told her to get as far as she could until she needed the button thread, right?" Noa didn't wait for him to answer. "Well, you can't sew the lining closed until the buttons are on or you run the risk of sewing the buttons through the lining. And since you wouldn't know, I'll just tell you—that's the mark of a cheap suit or bad tailoring. Father would never stand for it."

Seto stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed and waited for a silence to settle over the room.

"Are you done?" he asked.

Noa didn't answer.

"I was resolving the issue. Vivian could have, and would have told me the same thing, but by less condescending means. It's one thing to be proud of your "craft", Noa, but it's another thing entirely to be a pain in the ass about it. Which you are, most of the time."

"You still didn't need to talk to her that way."

"You didn't need to talk to me that way, in front of the entire room of workers."

"I said what she was thinking anyway."

"Then you don't know her. Either way, it shouldn't matter. I pay you. You do not get to speak to me that way."

Noa laughed. "You're not paying me!"

"I will once you can do some damn work. You should know, this precious shop of yours isn't making any money, and it's mostly your fault."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I looked at the books last night. More than eighty percent of the discounts given last month were unauthorized, and all of those tickets had your initials on them. You're giving this shop away. Mulling around and giving unauthorized discounts is not worthy of a sixteen dollar hourly wage."

"I would be able to pull my weight just fine if I could walk without crutches."

"Don't you dare try to insinuate that you're in your condition because of me. I am so sick of that pity party you're throwing."

"Whatever. Just remember, once I get back in there sewing, I'll be able to turn all your problems around. So I hope for your sake you don't push me away."

Seto laughed. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

Noa gave a smug smirk. "I can get a job anywhere in this city. Even more than that, I could open my own shop."

"I'm not even going to get started on your lack of business experience, but I know how much you make and you do not have the capital to start a business. So before you start slinging empty threats, remember that I don't need this shop as much as you do. I can sell this dump to the highest bidder, and use the capital that I will have to start up a successful business doing something worthwhile. I don't care what happens to this place like you do."

"We've already been through this! We both know what will happen if you sell. The good workers will quit, and Father's reputation will—"

"Father's reputation be damned!"

Noa's eyes narrowed and his jaw hung open, interrupted, while Seto's words hung. His crutch clattered to the floor, forgotten, as he raised his arm and struck Seto across the cheek with the back of his hand.

Seto recoiled, stepping away. His own hand sprang to his face, his eyes boring into Noa's.

Noa glared back, wearing a daring mask. He leaned to the left to keep weight off his right ankle, but made no move to pick up his crutch. His trembling fists were tight balls at his sides.

Heat pulsed in Seto's cheek under the pressure of his hand, still clamped on the spot he knew would grow puffy and red.

He knew because he'd seen it in the mirror dozens of times. His own young face always stared back at him as he tried to inspect the damage through the angry, blurry wetness he always tried to blink away. First it was Gozaburo's hand that caused the redness and the pain. Later, Noa had his own part.

It had been a long time since the last, but suddenly Seto was a child again.

Childhood habits seized Seto's limbs and he lost control. The distance he had put between himself and the instinct was swallowed up within the instant of the first blow. He was three feet tall and thin as a rail and his slaps couldn't hit, but he had to try because anything else just meant more pain. The game was never about winning because he knew he couldn't, but he would last as long as he could.

Seto lunged forward. Noa put his fists up but Seto grabbed them. He yanked Noa away from the front counter.

Keep his hands away from your face, Seto thought without thinking, or he'll claw your skin off.

His best bet was always to get Noa on the floor and expose his weak spots, but Noa held tight to Seto's wrists. Seto lost his balance and Noa pulled him to the floor. Seto let himself feel small and weak a breath too long and Noa rolled on top of him, before Seto realized that he could hold his twin down now.

Seto twisted under Noa until he got a lock on his legs, then pushed off and pinned him down, his elbow in Noa's chest.

"Get off!" Noa shouted, but Seto didn't move.

Noa squirmed, his legs almost breaking free once, but Seto fought back and reestablished his hold.

"Get off!" Noa choked, spit landing on Seto's cheek.

While Seto held his position, he also held his breath, feeling his face grow hot. He already felt like he might explode, but holding the air in his lungs brought his rage to a head. Noa squirmed under him and he held still even when Noa's boot scraped against his shin. There wasn't much leverage behind it, but it hurt. Seto was sure he'd done it on purpose, and it would probably still bruise.

Seto pushed down harder to keep Noa from hurting him while his lungs began to burn. When he couldn't take the fire any longer he turned his head to the side and exhaled as slowly as he could.

The anger's edge softened just enough for clarity to return. But Seto did not relax his grip or his hold yet.

"I am stronger than you are now," Seto said, slowly and carefully.

"I don't care! Just get off!"

"Don't you ever hit me again. Do you hear me?"

"Fuck you." Noa's voice was low, but angry.

"Do you hear me?"

"Get off!"

Seto knew he wouldn't get an answer until he gave Noa what he wanted. But he was calmer now; the fight was over if he wasn't going to hit back any more. But he wasn't going to just let himself be hit, either.

Seto pulled his legs under him, but kept his grip on Noa's arms until his own feet were beneath him and he sprang quickly to his feet.

Noa was after him quickly but by the time he could stand Seto was several steps away. Noa took a rushed step toward him but he froze, wide-eyed, when he put weight on his boot.

"Ahh!" he cried out, backing off his broken ankle and slumping against the front desk, sinking to the floor and holding his boot.

Seto stepped just near enough to use a foot to push Noa's crutch closer, so he could grab it when he needed it.

He watched Noa rock back and forth with his leg in his hands. Noa's face was screwed up in pain and the corners of his eyes glistened.

After nearly a minute, Seto asked, "How bad does it hurt? Do you need to have the doctor reset it, or do you just need some pills?"

Noa winced before turning his face up toward Seto and glaring.

"How the hell should I know?" he nearly shouted.

Seto, still forcing deep breaths to hold the shallow calm he'd found, shook his head. "What do you want to happen? Do you want to see the doctor, or do you want to wait it out with some pain meds?"

"You figure it out!"

"Take your boot off."

Noa shook his head. "I don't trust you."

"Then you should let the doctor decide."

Noa eventually relaxed enough to stop rocking, though he kept his grip on the boot and his eyes still watered.

"Did you bring your pills today?"

"Why do you even care?" Noa screeched.

Seto didn't know how to answer. He didn't know why. For that matter, he didn't know if he even did care just then, or if he was only acting out of instinct. He settled for a shrug.

"What does it matter? Just answer the question, or I'm going to walk away. If you don't want help, you can't be in that much pain, and you're obviously faking for dramatics."

When Noa answered, he sounded suddenly exhausted, his voice coming out as hoarse and strained as Seto's felt in his own throat.

"I only take them when I need to anymore. No, I don't have them with me."

"Then you need to call someone to take you home."

Noa's gaze snapped up to Seto's face.

"You drive me. You have my car."

"I don't trust myself to drive right now with you in the car. You couldn't even keep your mouth shut this morning, talking right over my music. Find someone else."

Noa let his head fall back against the counter and closed his eyes, his jaw tight.

"Before you get any ideas of blaming me if your ankle's screwed up now," Seto said, "I hope you're honest enough to admit you started this."

"You grabbed me!"

Seto knelt down so he was eye level with Noa again, but still out of arm's reach. If anyone was undeserving of trust, it was Noa.

"You struck me first. I refuse to argue the point."

Noa turned away. "I hate you."

"I would be willing to bet a lot on the fact that I hated you before you even realized I existed."

Noa turned back and studied him through a glare, as if trying to find his meaning written on his face.

Seto stood up again.

"Find a ride home, or to the doctor's office. But either way, you have to leave."

Without answering Seto, Noa stood up with the help of his crutch. While leaning against the counter, he took his phone from his pocket and began flipping through his contacts.

The back door swung open suddenly. Startled, Seto quickly ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shirt, before he even glanced at who had opened the door. He was certain he had looked a mess. He gave Noa a once-over, but didn't care nearly as much if he looked presentable.

"Sir?" Vivian called.

"What is it?" he asked, feeling suddenly irritated that he had gotten worked up over only her.

"The, um, the order's done," she stammered. She came around to the other side of the counter, which Noa leaned against, watching him with concern. But she turned back to Seto "Do you want me to call von Schroeder?"

"No," Seto said. "He's upset. I'll talk to him."

"Sure. Are you okay, Noa?"

Noa pursed his lips and nodded, not looking up at her, or anywhere in particular, his cell phone in his hand, dangling at his side.

"Alright…" Vivian said, sounding unconvinced.

She glanced between Seto and Noa. But whatever she seemed to be thinking, she brushed off and returned to the back room.

Seto moved to follow her, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Noa first. His twin was glaring at him, holding out his cell phone with a finger on the call button, like he was waiting for Seto to leave before he dialed. Seto did not give him any more reason to wait, and left him alone.


	49. Chapter 49

Inside the back room Seto was greeted with the whirring and hammering of heavy machines, the sounds so loud there was no doubt the cacophony covered the volume of his brawl with Noa, short lasted though it was.

Vivian finished steaming the jacket and clipped it on the end of one of the many chains hanging from the ceiling, near Seto.

Seto picked up the phone again and dialed the number as he remembered it from earlier. He stood with his back to the shop. He navigated the call as well as he could, though _Herr Schroeder_ did not seem highly interested in speaking any longer than necessary.

"Is he still going to pick up today?" Vivian asked.

Seto glanced at her—at the room as a whole—to see that she, and the rest of the workers, kept their eyes on their work. He could feel the heat in his cheek still throbbing and knew that if it wasn't red and swollen already it would be soon. Aside from that, he rubbed at his wrists where Noa had grabbed before they fell to the floor, seeing that they were red as well.

"Yes," Seto answered. "In about an hour."

Nobody needed to see his injuries, nor did anyone need to receive an answer if they thought to ask about them. Even if his brother was still technically his employee, his personal affairs did not belong at work. Still, he would not be able to hide the mark all day. Someone, eventually, would ask about it.

"Daimon," Seto said, thinking quickly.

The man looked up, but he was not of a vantage point to see the side of Seto's face where Noa had struck him.

"Yes?"

"I would rather not ask this of you, I need you to take care of the customer when he comes. I know he's rather upset already, but there should be nothing to it but taking his payment."

"Yes, Sir. If you need me to."

"I have to go. I have an appointment," he lied.

"I will take care of Herr Schroeder," Daimon assured.

"I'll hang his order out front. Do not let him try to haggle. His price is final, even if he tries to claim we owe him something. We don't. If there are any problems you can still call my cell."

"Yes, Sir."

"Is there anything else pressing that needs to be addressed before I go?" he asked the shop, but made a show of leaning against a counter with his ankles crossed, his head down and eyes on the floor.

Most of the workers answered by shaking their heads or dismissing the question, but Atem shut off his machine.

"Do you have a final answer about our leave time?" Atem asked.

"I will address that another day. I'm still evaluating, but I will give you an answer as soon as I have one."

Atem seemed dissatisfied with his answer, but didn't protest. He flipped his machine back on and resumed his work. Seto couldn't be bothered to care about Atem's reaction when he himself couldn't imagine wanting to return to the shop again.

Seto honestly didn't care if they all quit, so long as he could nail down a buyer for the shop before they jumped ship.

"Daimon, you'll have to close up shop when you leave today."

"What if he has to leave early again, before the shop is closed?" Vivian asked with interest.

Seto kept his eyes on Daimon. "Then either you or Cicero can help him count the drawer down and chase everyone out. I don't want to invite another security risk, even if it means you have to close early. I do not want anyone untrained in closing shop taking the keys home overnight."

"Yes, Sir," Vivian and Cicero said together.

"But that isn't going to be an issue today, is it Daimon?" Seto asked.

"Not today, Sir," he assured.

As promised, Seto slipped a garment bag over the burgundy suit and carried the order out to the front of the shop. Seto had to admit that even though the order and the customer were both a pain, the suit looked impeccable, in style and craftsmanship.

He hung it on a hook behind the front counter. He noticed that he couldn't see Noa's crutch on the floor, so he peered around the corner, pleasantly surprised to find the floor bare. A glance around the shop told him Noa was nowhere to be seen.

He finished totaling the pricing on the ticket, adding in the tax, and stapled it to the bag, so all Daimon would have to do would be to take the payment, tear off the stub and file it. Lastly, Seto slid the bell marked "ring for service" to the center of the counter.

Seto ducked back into the workshop long enough to grab his briefcase, but didn't bother saying goodbye to the workers before leaving again. Car keys in hand, he pressed open the front door just in time to see Noa climbing into the passenger door of a white car Seto didn't recognize, several spots away. The vehicle was unremarkable aside from a few spots of rust on the side. A few seconds later, the car backed away. Seto couldn't get a good look at the driver.

Without giving it another thought, Seto got into Noa's car—rather, the car that was given to them both but Noa claimed as his own—and pulled out of the parking lot. Glad he had gotten into the habit of bringing his text books with him to work lately, he drove down the road in the opposite direction he had seen the white car turn, and headed toward his university.

* * *

There were no lectures or study groups going on that he could join in at present, but Seto didn't mind. He unloaded his satchel of books while in the parking lot and swung it over his shoulder on his way in to the branch of the school that held the library.

He set up at a public computer and logged into the school's system, his textbook open on the desk beside him. He had found himself relieved that his coursework was flexible enough that he had been able to switch to an online study program. With such an unpredictable schedule since inheriting Kaiba's Coats, he would have had to drop out of his degree.

Seto spent nearly two hours finishing assignments and catching up on quizzes. When he was ready for a break he logged off, packed up his books and ventured to the vending machines in the lobby of the library. He usually wouldn't bother with the university's coffee, but it was at least less bitter than the coffee at the hospital where Noa was treated, as he had recently learned.

So, he slid his plastic card into the machine and watched as a cup dropped and a stream of dark, steaming liquid poured into it. Seto recalled, as he reached into the mini-fridge for a pair of creamers, that he had been pleased when the school had upgraded its vending machines to accept card payments shortly into his first year, since he never seemed to use cash often enough to have loose change.

"Seto?" came a heavy voice from the front doors, just as Seto tore open his first creamer. "Seto Kaiba?"

Seto didn't turn around until he had finished adding cream to his coffee, and by then a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

"That is you, Seto," a bright-eyed, white-haired man said with a grin. "It's good to see you here on campus." He pointed to the coffee. "I hope I didn't make you spill."

"You didn't, Professor," Seto said, setting his cup down on a table next to his books. Seto didn't wait for the other man to stick out a hand, Seto offered his first.

The aged man shook Seto's hand, then pulled out one of the stools around the cafe table Seto had claimed and sat down.

"How are you doing? Are you here for a class?"

"Actually, I came here to get away from… an employee, but none of the lectures I need are scheduled today."

"Ah, a very common occurrence while running a business, as you must be learning! If it isn't the customers driving you crazy, it's the help. Oh, but you must know about that already, growing up under your father."

"More or less. So I decided to take the time this afternoon to study with some quiet."

"Then how rude of me for disrupting you," the man said with no indication that he planned to leave.

"I'm taking a break at the moment," Seto said with a half-shrug, picking up his steaming cup of coffee and stirring it to cool it down.

"How is your 'test business', as I believe you called it at the start of the term? Is it working out?"

"It's…" Seto couldn't think of how to answer.

The bills and employees were getting paid, but how did he _feel_ about the business?

"Frustrating," Seto finally finished. "But it's working out."

"Customers are happy, workers are showing up?" the man asked while nodding.

"More or less," Seto answered again.

"At the end of the day, that's all you can ask for, especially when you're just starting out. Oh, and turning a profit helps, too."

Seto nodded once while the man laughed. He glanced around the lobby, reluctant to sit down. He didn't really intend to have a full conversation with his professor, and he certainly didn't feel like talking about Kaiba's Coats any more.

"After I finish today's studying," Seto said, "I'll only be twelve assignments and three quizzes away from the end of the term. Plus the exam, of course."

"Wonderful," the man grinned. "I'm glad to hear you're plugging along. Your assignments keep popping up in the system, so I know you're still working, but it's good to hear that you're keeping up, too. You know, I've asked around a few of the econ and business classes, but none of the other students seemed to have tabs on you."

"I'm a little too busy to do much socializing—outside of my family, anyway."

It was Seto's excuse, but honestly he had no intentions of keeping in touch with his classmates. They didn't mean anything in particular to him.

"To be expected. Now, I hope you haven't forgotten about the group project due before the end of the term."

"I haven't, Professor," Seto said, finally taking a tentative sip of his still-too-warm coffee.

It wasn't a lie, but he hadn't been spending any time thinking about the project, or how he would manage to get it done.

"Do you have any partners in the class you plan on working with?"

Seto's stomach churned. He couldn't risk letting KC be the reason he couldn't finish his degree, but how could he manage to fit that kind of project in? He didn't even know how to contact his classmates anymore, let alone form a project with them.

"Do my partners have to be students here?" Seto asked after a moment.

The professor paused reflectively. "I've never been asked that question before. The assignment every year is for each student to turn in a report on a project that they conducted or participated in, but it cannot be a solo endeavor. I suppose, if you have others in mind that wouldn't mind working with you—tailors from Kaiba's Coats, I presume?—I would accept that as your final assignment."

"I appreciate that," Seto said, feeling relieved even though he hadn't started thinking of a project he could plan with his employees.

"Just so long as it's turned in three weeks before the term is up."

Seto frowned and pulled out his phone, flipping to his rather full calendar.

"Of _course_ ," he muttered, grinding his teeth until he realized he was, and stopped.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"I suppose I didn't realize it was due three weeks before the end of the term."

"That gives us time to give presentations-which you could view remotely if needed-some review work, and time to prepare for the final exam."

"I understand that. Unfortunately, I'm out of town the weekend of the due date, and the Friday and Monday before and after."

"I would advise you to change your plans."

"If I had control over the plans enough to do so, I would, but this is important."

"More important than a final grade?"

Seto pocketed his phone and met the professor's gaze.

"Important enough to provide my little brother with the future he dreams about. Even if it means repeating the semester, I won't be missing this date."

"I see. Well, I suppose, especially since you won't be conducting the project or report with other classmates, I'll give you the option of turning it in early for a full grade. I can't accept the final assignment late, however."

"I understand."

"Can you make that work?"

"I'll have to, won't I?"

The professor smiled warmly at Seto and rose from his seat.

"Well, my boy, I'm afraid I have to run. I'm glad I bumped into you. If I don't get to see you in class again before the semester is out, I wish you the best next semester, and I hope to see you for graduation."

"I'm sure I'll be back by then, at least," Seto said mechanically, though he was already puzzling over what kind of project he could come up with to write a report about.

When the professor shook his hand again and bid farewell, Seto followed him out of the lobby and headed back to his place at the computer, on to another assignment.


	50. Chapter 50

A/N: This totally would have been up yesterday, but you know. FFN glitch. So glad that got fixed. Anyway, this time it wasn't me who flaked. In fact, I'm going to try my best to stick to weekly Sunday postings until the end of this story, with the occasional mid-week bonus update. No promises, though. But we made it to chapter fifty, and this is the longest (chapter-wise) story I've written. I hope you enjoy!

-omgagr

* * *

When Seto made it home in the late afternoon, he walked straight to the stairs intending to head up to his room. He noticed in passing that his brothers sat on the living room sofa huddled together in front of the laptop.

Despite the day's trials and even though he was still struggling not to hold a grudge against Noa, Seto found a moment of peace at the sight of them getting along, or having some brief common interest, whatever was going on.

But when Mokuba called his name in an empty, hollow-sounding voice, Seto stopped mid-step, still at the bottom of the staircase.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his demeanor dissolving into automatic concern.

Something was bothering his little brother. Seto's eyes went straight to Noa. Had he told Mokuba about their fight?

"You might want to take a look at this," Noa chanted in a sing-song voice.

Whatever was bothering Mokuba, clearly wasn't affecting Noa. But Noa wasn't malicious against Mokuba like he was with Seto, which had to mean the problem impacted Seto more than Noa himself.

He slowly approached the back of the sofa and leaned over so he could view the screen of the laptop between his brothers.

On the screen was a dark, grainy photo of Seto himself, laying back on what appeared to be a bed, with bright red sheets—clearly not his own. He wasn't wearing a shirt, his toned bare chest prominently displayed. Beside him a blonde-haired woman lay, her dress clearly unzipped from behind. The fabric flayed out beneath her shoulders.

Beneath the photo was a line of bold text in large font: Owner of Local Tailoring Shop Reported to Have Relations With Dependent Student's High School Teacher.

Seto scanned the article, which wasn't printed by a standard news source, but rather a low-budget tabloid—he knew the _real_ media wouldn't care about a matter like this. He hadn't done anything illegal.

The rest of the article focused on the fact that a member of Seto's immediate family was a student in the woman's class, and she a client in his shop, and all the benefits he could gain by coercing such a woman into bed—as if that was what he had done.

"Seto?" Mokuba asked.

"She was taking photos on her phone," Seto muttered as he realized the detail.

"What?" Noa asked, turning to look at him. "So this really is you? I was telling Mokuba this picture was probably photo-shopped. You can get away with a lot when the photo's that grainy."

Seto could feel that Mokuba had stopped looking at the laptop, his eyes glued to Seto's face. He didn't want to look back at him, but he had to look away from the blaring photograph. He stared down at the back of the sofa, grinding his teeth.

"Owner of the local and reputable tailoring shop, Kaiba's Coats," Noa read aloud in a cheerful voice, " _Seto Kaiba_ has evidently crossed the line with a high school teacher."

"That's a load of _crap_ ," Seto complained. "We didn't do—" Seto clenched his fist, cutting himself off. His thoughts whirled in his frustration.

"While two consenting adults may be free to act as they choose," Noa continued reading, "there is no doubt that this pairing creates unwelcome complications for those around them. For instance, our reports have good evidence to support the fact that a member of the Kaiba family household is a student in the class taught by the young woman."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Seto barked. "If this article is supposed to be aimed at me, why mention him?"

"Because everyone knows parents and guardians only bang teachers to get their kids better grades," Noa said in a relaxed tone. "You're cheating the system."

Seto wanted to smack the back of Noa's head for such a comment, especially for making it in front of Mokuba, but his hands were shaking with anger that hadn't been Noa's fault—not entirely, anyway.

"Is that how you got her to back off from giving me a hard time?" Mokuba asked.

Seto finally met Mokuba's eyes, and guilt weighed him down. He put a hand on Mokuba's shoulder, but the teenager shrugged it off. He opened his mouth but Noa cut off any ability for Seto to answer.

"We _recommend_ ," he continued reading as he scanned down the page, his tone hardened, "reconsidering Kaiba's Coats as a clothing source, even though many prominent men and women have been suited at the establishment over the decades of business.

"Gathering that the woman in question would be given special treatment," he read on, "what kind of price-gouging does that mean for the rest of the customers in order for Kaiba's Coats to still meet their bottom line? I, personally, will find somewhere with more class to tailor my clothing."

"More class?" Mokuba complained. "You can't get classier than KC. It's the best place in the area. The article even calls the shop _reputable_ , with _prominent_ customers."

"This is click-bait," Seto said. "This article is only meant to shock people into getting them more revenue from ads."

"But that doesn't mean it can't still hurt us," Noa said, his voice shaking.

"What that article _doesn't_ say is that she's the one who invited me out that night, and she's the one who invited me back to her apartment. What does that say about what _she_ had to gain?"

"But you didn't have to go!" Mokuba cried. "You should have known that something like this would happen!" He threw himself into the back of the sofa with his arms crossed, staring straight across the room, away from Seto or the laptop.

"The article also doesn't say that we never had sex."

"Honestly, Seto," Noa offered, "does it really matter how far you got? The internet believes that you took off a woman's clothes, and that woman was, in more than one way, socially off-limits to you. Besides," he muttered, "maybe it would have been better. At least you would have gotten something for all this trouble."

"Noa, shut up," Seto said with a glare.

Noa only grinned at him in return, until Mokuba shoved his arm with an elbow, nearly sending the laptop to the carpet. He caught the machine, readjusted, and shifted a few inches away from Mokuba.

"And everyone I go to school with will find out, if they haven't already," Mokuba sulked, pulling his knees up to his chest. "This article is posted _everywhere_. I can find it on _all_ the social media sites I'm on."

He stepped around the couch and sat down across from the sofa in the recliner that was rarely used, formerly Gozaburo's place to relax. Seto found the position anything but.

"If I had had any idea things would get out of hand like this, I wouldn't have gone out with her. You have to know that, Mokuba," he tried to insist while rubbing his forehead.

Even if she had brought him somewhere that earned him enough cash to replace his car, Seto thought.

"Whatever. You know what she's like. You should have known she was up to something."

"Mokuba."

"What?"

"I was trying to give her a chance. You're right, I shouldn't have bothered. But I can't do anything about that now."

"You can try to get this article taken down."

Seto leaned in toward his young sibling. "And I will."

"Not to claim your problems aren't important, little brother," Noa said, "but I think we have bigger issues than your school's tendency to spread rumors." He looked up at Seto. "We'll lose business over this."

"Our business will be fine. An article like this won't dissuade the loyal customers. Hell, a good percent of them have been loyal so long they're too old to use the internet."

"That's true, but didn't you just tell me the business isn't making much? If that's as true as you claim then it won't take much to hurt our bottom line."

"We're busy right now. Nobody is going to cancel orders we're already working on because of this. We might lose a few customers who otherwise might have returned, or considered trying us out for the first time, if they're blind enough to buy into this article. But it would take at least two months—long enough for all the orders we currently have to flesh out—for that to impact the business, _if_ it does."

"But you know this is going to alter our reputation."

"For a little while, maybe."

"Did you say KC isn't making any money?" Mokuba chimed in.

"It's making money. I'm just not bringing home as much as I should be able to. This is an issue I'm working to resolve," Seto answered, eying Noa.

He already had in mind to hang an "All Prices Are Final" sign by the cash register.

"But what does that mean for us?" Mokuba asked.

"It means you shouldn't worry about it, because it's not your problem," Seto said, closing the matter. "I know why you're concerned, but I've already budgeted for the trip this month."

Mokuba nodded, still clearly upset but slightly pacified.

"I think you're taking this too lightly," Noa said, pointing to the screen.

"And I think you're overreacting. I'll take care of it."

"The success of this business affects this whole house. I want to know what you're planning to do."

"There's no saying that this article is actually going to upset the business."

Seto stood up straight and passed the sofa, turning toward the stairs, leaving the conversation.

"Seto, wait!" Mokuba called, pushing the laptop away and getting up.

Seto wouldn't stop as he reached the stairs, but gestured for Mokuba to follow. Seto led the way to his bedroom and sat down on the computer chair, Mokuba again taking the edge of his bed.

"What is it?" Seto asked when the door was closed.

Mokuba took a breath before speaking, then gave Seto a little smile as if to change the mood of the room. Seto still felt tense, gripping the armrests of his chair harder than he meant to.

"Noa said he came home alone. I guess someone dropped him off?" Mokuba asked.

"As far as I know."

"What happened today? Why didn't you bring him home?"

Seto whirled the chair around to face him.

"We got in a fight."

"What? Like a _fight_ fight? A real one, at work?" Mokuba asked, his voice escalating.

"In the front lobby," Seto nodded.

"Right in _front_? So does everybody know?"

"Nobody saw, from what I could tell."

"Somebody must have seen you two."

"Everybody was in the back working. There were no customers."

"Was it bad? What happened?"

"I guess I said something too practical for Noa's fragile emotional ego to handle."

"But that happens all the time."

"This was different. I wouldn't do what he wanted. And then, I insulted Father to Noa's face."

Mokuba winced.

"Then he struck me across the face. I… well. I lost it from there." Seto said, gripping the armrests ever harder.


	51. Chapter 51

Mokuba sat back and stared. Then he hopped off the bed and approached Seto, grabbing hold of his chin and tilting it.

"Yeah, I can definitely see it. Does it hurt?"

Mokuba let go and Seto rubbed the spot.

"It's a little tender. He hit me with the back of his hand. I just hope it doesn't leave a mark."

Mokuba returned to the bed.

"I thought for sure," Seto said, "that he had told you about it already."

"Nope. He was tight-lipped ever since I walked in the door from school and saw him here."

"I figured you were upset at me."

"For fighting back against him? No. I'm really not thrilled you had almost-sex with my teacher. But he probably had no right to hit you, whatever you said."

Seto leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. "Can we just forget about Miss Valentine for now?"

"I do kinda need to know how to deal with her when I get to her class tomorrow."

"We'll talk about that in the morning, before you have to go. By then I'll have had more time to think about it."

"Yeah. Fine. So… what did you mean when you said that you "lost it"?"

Seto sighed. "I grabbed him. I was trying to keep him from hitting me again but we wound up on the floor. He kicked me, and he probably would have done worse if I hadn't been able to pin him down."

"Yeah, probably. That's how it always used to go," Mokuba said quietly. "I'm glad you could pin him this time, but I hope you didn't hit him back. You used to be somewhat evenly matched, but I'm betting you'd have no problem taking him on now. The only muscles he's been working out are in his fingertips."

"I would prefer not to dwell on what I might be capable of doing in retaliation now. I might be tempted to try. But no, I didn't hit him. I stopped the fight before it got bad. But it didn't look like he was going to let me."

Mokuba laughed. "Of course not! Because he always has to have the advantage. It's not enough for him to just get the last word, he has to get in the last hit."

"I hate that you saw us fight so much that you know our routine."

He shrugged. "It never takes very much to set him off. It was hard to avoid seeing. And he fights dirty. Remember that one time, when you were just trying to get him to stop but he ended up putting all those scratches up and down your arms?"

Seto examined his forearms, somewhat relieved that Mokuba was under the impression that that had only happened once. Most of the scars had faded but there were a few little white lines that remained, nearly invisible now.

"I remember. I'm just glad you always had the sense to get out of the way. I would rather have been kicked in the stomach a few extra times than have you get involved."

Mokuba let out a breath that could have been a laugh, and there was a curl on his lips that could have been a smile, but it was all too subdued to tell, even for Seto. He could tell, however, that the conversation wasn't an easy one for the boy.

"I don't think Noa would have actually hurt me. Not the way you two were always ripping each other apart."

"It's not just about not getting hit. I'm glad you usually hid so that you didn't, but…"

Mokuba tilted his head. "What are you talking about, Seto?"

Seto was silent a moment.

"Even these days, my anger can be very hard to control sometimes. Like today. Things would not have escalated as far as they did if I had been able to hold myself together. Being around him always makes it worse. I know I could probably be nicer to him, but I just can't let my guard down around him. I don't want you to have to deal with that, so I'm glad you never got involved in our fights."

"Well…" Mokuba started, seeming to be at a loss for what to say. "You're probably not going to live together forever."

Seto studied Mokuba's face a few moments.

"I've thought about that, but it's complicated."

"Didn't we talk about moving before? I know we were just joking, but that question had to come from somewhere."

"I would have to take you with me. You're my responsibility. But that would leave Noa alone."

"I'm sure he can take care of himself."

Seto sighed. "I won't be involved with KC forever, either. I'm sure I'll sell before he ever threatens to quit again."

"He threatened to quit? I don't believe that."

"It was an empty threat, I'm sure."

"He'd never do it."

"No. But if I sold the shop and we moved, I probably wouldn't end up talking with him much at all."

"I might," he considered.

"That's good. Personally I think he's a dick, and would like very much not to have to deal with him for a good couple of years. But I don't want our baggage to mess up your relationship with him. I'm more concerned, however, with the fact that if he were here alone—or if we sold the house and went our own ways—if something happened to him I probably wouldn't find out for a while."

"Like if he broke a bone again, or got sick?"

Seto nodded. "Who would help him out?"

"Well, we would. We could visit. Bring him some soup."

Seto let out a bark of laughter at the thought.

"But he would never tell _me_ he's sick and needs soup," Seto said. "His ego could never take the hit. He probably wouldn't tell you either. He wants you to see him as a capable person—unless he's trying to get sympathy or get out of chores, anyway—so he's never really been interested in running to you, to either of us, for genuine help."

"That's true. So, this makes me wonder something," Mokuba said.

"What is it?"

"If you want to get away from him so bad, then why do you care so much about what happens to him if he's alone?"

Seto leaned back in his chair.

"Do you know why I've always tried so hard to be… I don't know, attentive to you? Even if I don't always manage to act in your best interest?"

Mokuba shrugged.

"No. I guess I always thought it was because I'm so charming."

Seto laughed, but it was a soft sound that didn't carry.

"It doesn't hurt that I've always liked your wit," he said.

"Why, then?"

Seto's laugh faded into a distant smile. "Because Mother asked me to."

"Really? When?" Mokuba leaned forward just slightly, seeming unaware that he was even doing it.

"Before you were born, when you were almost to term. She knew Noa and I were very different, even then. She treated us differently. Noa needed more coddling and attention, even if he never wanted any attention from me. So when she and I were alone together once, and we were talking about what it would be like when the baby comes, she told me she wanted me to look after you."

Mokuba was quiet a while.

"Do you think she knew at the time? That she wasn't going to make it?"

This time Seto shrugged. "It's possible. She could have known there was a complicating issue already. But if she and Father did, they never let on."

"You don't think she knew, do you?"

"I think, whether she knew she was going to die in a few weeks or not, she still would have said the same thing. When I asked her why, the reason she gave me always stuck with me."

"What was the reason?"

"Mother said that strong relationships with siblings are the best that a person can have throughout life. I tried to tell her that she was more important to me than the only sibling I knew at the time."

"You really didn't get along with him much even then, did you?"

"Before he ever fought with me, he ignored me. Some days it was like he didn't believe I existed. He made it clear from the start how self-centered he is."

"What did Mother say then?"

"She said that nobody will have their parents by their side their entire lives, but if siblings treat each other right neither of them will be alone."

"That's sweet," Mokuba smiled, then it faded into a frown. "But also kind of scary, if she did know something was wrong. It's sad to know she was thinking that way so soon before she died. But that's all it took, and you decided to be—what did you call it?— _attentive_ to me?"

"Our talk made me think about how I felt whenever Mother and Father were busy, since Noa already ignored me, and tried to imagine living like that all the time. I hadn't met you yet, but I never wanted you to feel that alone."

"But you like being by yourself."

"Now I do. But maybe not when I was five. I especially did not want to live my life knowing that you felt alone, but that it was my fault."

Mokuba grinned.

"So you started off being nice to me?"

"You were very receptive. You tried chasing after Noa at first, too, but he ignored us both and chased after Father. He always seems to favor Father, even before Mother passed away."

"So that's why you and I have always been a team? I kinda like that."

"So you can imagine how I felt having had that conversation, when Mother died suddenly just a little while later. Her message really hit home. I don't remember everything about her, but I don't think I could ever forget that talk."

Mokuba's smile lingered, and a quietness settled over the room.

"Not that I'm not glad you told me that story, but was it supposed to answer my question? About leaving Noa?" Mokuba asked.

"I was getting back to that. You asked me why I care what happens to him."

"Mom's message didn't just apply to me in your mind, did it?"

Seto shook his head. "I will always feel like I have to look after him."

"Just so you know he's not alone, right?"

"Right. But that doesn't mean that I have to put up with… abuse."

Whatever their fight had been earlier in the day, and even if he had provoked Noa to starting it, his twin had never been fair.

"So, are we moving?"

It was Seto's turn to be silent a moment. He leaned back further and stared at the ceiling. Dusty cobwebs had begun to gather in the corners, and soon he would have to address them.

"I think I need to stop working in close quarters with him. Sharing a ride to work once he's better is going to grate on my nerves more than I might be able to handle without snapping."

"Are you going to sell the shop?"

"I think I have to. I know he doesn't like the idea, but I can try to find someone able to pay the veteran workers enough to keep them from leaving. That's one of his biggest concerns."

"Then what will you do?"

"I'll use the money from the sale to start up that business you and I were talking about."

Mokuba sat forward.

"Really?"

Seto raised a hand. "Don't get too excited. I would need to do a lot of work before I can get to that point. I'd need a business plan—although I do have a few various drafts started already."

"But, you're serious about trying to start a gaming business?"

"I'm reaching my limits with the tailoring shop. I might be able to stand being in such close quarters with Noa if I wasn't in charge for him to blame every problem on me and then lord his expertise over me."

"But you like being the boss."

"More than the idea of being an employee, that's true. But I don't know how much longer I can stand to be Noa's boss. And in light of recent events—our fight, and that article—it might be better for the shop if I stepped down from my post as soon as possible."

"So, what do you need to do to get ready to sell?"

"I need to finish a decent marketing plan for my ideas, including finding and researching suppliers and outlets or venues for my products. I have to make a budget and get additional financing if I need it, maybe scope out some potential employees. While I'm doing all of that I can start looking for a buyer for the tailoring shop and begin negotiations."

"How long do you think all that will take?"

"Hopefully long enough for me to finish out my degree. My guess is about six months if I start soon."

"Soon, like, tomorrow?"

Seto laughed. "Sure. I can start tomorrow."

"So you're really doing this."

"I don't think I have a choice. You have your dreams to chase, and so do I. Why should either of us sit around and wait for something good to fall into our laps?"

Mokuba leapt off Seto's bed suddenly and pointed a dramatic finger at him.

"Seto, I challenge you to a duel!"

Seto laughed again. "It's time to practice again? Alright. Go get your deck."


	52. Chapter 52

"You said," Mokuba interrupted himself with a yawn, "that we would talk this morning about how I should deal at school today."

Noa came into the kitchen before Seto could answer Mokuba.

"What's for breakfast?" Noa asked, sitting down at the table.

"Fend for yourself," Seto answered, sipping his coffee. He sat at the head of the table working on a program on his laptop, a notebook on the side.

"Are there leftovers of whatever you made?" Noa questioned, glancing around the table, but not a dish was in sight.

"I didn't make breakfast this morning. I had a protein bar. My last protein bar, in fact. You'll have to make something yourself. I have to go soon."

"What? How am I supposed to—I can't navigate the kitchen without tripping, or burning something—probably myself."

"Oh. Is that your excuse for abandoning all the cooking and cleaning duties? Do you still think you'll burn yourself if you had to make your own coffee one of these days?"

"I almost broke the carafe the other day when I tried to do it myself. Do you know how hard it is to walk around with one leg, trying to carry something?"

Seto spoke only paying half attention to his twin, clearly focused on his project.

"Then make yourself whatever you usually eat for lunch when nobody is home to serve Your Highness. You won't starve."

Noa glanced at Mokuba as if asking for help.

"Don't look at me," Mokuba said, pouring himself a half-cup of coffee. "I don't have time. I woke up late. I think we still have cereal, though."

"It's probably stale. Nobody eats it," Seto said. "Mokuba, I know it's not your favorite, but there are some packets of oatmeal in the cupboard."

Mokuba wrinkled his nose, but reached into the cupboard anyway.

"Oh. At least it's the flavored kind," he said. "Okay, Noa. Do you want some? If it's just oatmeal I should have time to make you some, too. It takes, like, twelve seconds."

"Fine," Noa agreed, not sulking too loudly.

"So, Seto?" Mokuba prompted.

"Right."

Seto lowered the lid of his laptop halfway and twisted around toward Mokuba behind him, standing before the microwave with a measuring cup of water and the box of oatmeal.

"First, I want to apologize that my actions have affected you like this. I didn't know going out one night was going to be so regrettable."

"Whatever," Mokuba shrugged. "It's not entirely your fault that you didn't realize how crazy she is. I didn't either, but I was still crushing on her really hard, until recently."

Seto smirked. "If your friends know about the article, you should probably tell them that I am not, in fact, messing around with your teachers to help you pass your classes."

"That sounds like a good start."

"If anyone else gives you a hard time, you can always just tell them that they shouldn't believe everything they see on the internet."

"Also good advice. But what should I do about gym class? Am I just supposed to ignore what she's doing?"

"Yes, Mokuba. Absolutely. Do _not_ get yourself involved any deeper than she is already involving you. Don't provoke her, don't be disrespectful. Don't even let her know that you've seen the article. If other kids are talking about it and she's around, pretend you don't hear them. Do not give her any ammunition."

"That sounds a lot easier for you to do than for me. Knowing how she's actively trying to sabotage our lives, I'm just supposed to stand around while she's telling us to find our max on the leg press?"

"If you find yourself that frustrated, just take it out on the leg press. You have to stay calm and let me handle this."

Seto closed his laptop and slapped the notebook on top of it, standing as he scooped up both and tucked them under his arm.

"I have to finish getting ready." He checked the digital clock on the stove. "And so do you."

"Okay," Mokuba agreed, spooning the last of his oatmeal into his mouth.

"Take it easy today. Try not to let yourself get worked up over nothing."

"I'll try," he promised.

* * *

Seto was, as usual, the first person in the shop. But not long after he finished counting the cash drawer, Atem came in.

"Are you by yourself today?" Seto asked, seeing that Yugi wasn't following him.

"Yugi will be along," Atem answered, stopping beside the front desk.

"Late?"

"No, Sir. I was up early today, so I thought I would catch the bus and come in a little sooner."

"A welcome change."

"I thought it might give us a chance to speak."

"If you're going to ask me about your leave time again, I don't have any more updated information. And if you keep asking I might be less inclined to grant it."

"No, it's not about that. I was hoping to touch base. It has been a little while since you had given any of us an evaluation. I wanted to know if I'm still on "thin ice" with you," he said, using his fingers to form quotation marks.

Seto closed the cash drawer again and stepped back from the counter, slipping his hands casually into his pockets.

"I've had quite a bit going on lately. I haven't had time to bother. I remember putting you up as overseer on an order a bit ago. How is that going?"

"It only came up yesterday. Daimon is working on it, but may I reassign it if Daimon cannot attend consistently, due to his back?"

"You may. Give it to Cicero next."

"I will."

Seto led the way to the back room and Atem began unpacking at his station.

"What do you know about the order I put through for my little brother's coat?"

"The fabric arrived earlier in the week."

"Has anyone started the pattern yet?"

"I believe Daimon drafted it. But nobody has begun work on the garment yet."

"Fine. We still have a few weeks. If nobody has picked it up by Monday, make sure someone starts it by then."

"Yes, Sir."

"I usually try to fill everyone's workload in the morning, but in case something comes up and I can't make it in, I want to make sure someone is on top of the scheduling."

"Will Noa be coming in again today? He's usually quite on top of such things."

"Yesterday was a unique circumstance and it will not be happening again until his ankle has healed enough for him to work again."

Atem glanced up at Seto for a moment, but just as Atem was about to turn away again he stopped and narrowed his eyes in Seto's direction, focusing intently on… something in Seto's direction.

"What?" Seto asked.

"What happened to your jaw?" he asked.

Seto put a hand to his cheek where Noa had hit him the day before. It felt better than it did initially, but the tenderness had not faded completely. But he hadn't taken the time to remember to check it in the mirror before he left home.

"Is it that bad? I didn't think it was visible."

"It's not much of a bruise, but it looks uncomfortable."

"I've had worse."

"Did you get in a fight?"

"It's really none of your business."

"I wonder. Did it somehow have anything to do with that article I read yesterday?"

Seto dropped the folder he was holding on Noa's desk and stared at him.

"The article?" he repeated, unable to keep his voice from darkening.

Atem shook his head. "I suppose it is none of my business."

"You saw that piece of trash? Does everyone know about it?"

Atem shrugged. "I didn't speak about it to anyone, so I don't know. I doubt Yugi would have seen it. He was busy helping my great uncle yesterday evening."

" _Don't_ speak to anyone about it. The article is…"

"Not my business," Atem finished. "I understand."

Atem began to sift through his work for the day, apparently letting the subject drop.

While Seto was glad he didn't pursue the issue, the silence felt off. Something about Atem's indifference—no, _dismissal—_ left Seto feeling like he had done something wrong.

But when the front bell rang, he had nothing to do but let it go himself. He strode to the front room.

"We're not open yet," he said as he passed through the doorway, but stopped when he saw the man who had entered.

The man appeared undaunted. He stood at least as tall as Seto, and wore a long silver-white coat with wide sleeves and turquoise trim. His waist-length hair was mostly loose but bound at the end so it lay wide over one shoulder. Seto felt the look was dramatic and bold, if not a bit tacky.

"My apologies for bothering you," the man said in a voice much softer then Seto had expected, "but I was hoping to speak to the owner before hours."

Recollection flickered in Seto's mind, and he realized that he recognized the man. Although he did know the man to be one of Gozaburo's customers in the past, it was not from the shop that Seto knew his face from, but rather, in his economics classroom during a presentation on corporate entities.

"Dartz," Seto regarded with a respectful nod.

The man appeared interested to realize Seto recognized him.

"My father, the previous owner, has—"

"Yes, I heard about your father's unfortunate incident some time ago," Dartz interrupted.

Seto was relieved that the man hadn't offered any kind of condolence. He had grown tired of the sympathy that he had never asked for and the offered support which he never believed, quite some time ago.

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced," the man said. "You know my name. May I presume you are Seto, the elder twin to the Kaiba name?"

Seto was briefly taken aback—very few people outside the dwindling Kaiba family knew that Seto was, technically, the firstborn.

"Yes. Seto Kaiba," he said, offering his hand, which Dartz shook. "What do you wish to speak about?"

"Am I correct in my understanding that you are this establishment's new owner, young Kaiba?"

Seto thought that the term 'young Kaiba' was ill-suited to him, since even Dartz had just stated, he was the eldest of his siblings, the only remaining carriers of the name. But he dare not correct the man.

"That is true."

"I am interested in a business venture. Do you have a few minutes and a place we can speak privately?"

"No, not exactly," Seto hesitated. "This establishment unfortunately has no office."

"No offices? I hadn't realized. Where do you usually hold your meetings?"

"I typically conduct conferences, weather depending, at the tables out front for a little bit of privacy, but with employees and customers coming through the front and back of the shop, there is nowhere inside that is truly private. I would invite you to the back now while we're still closed but I already have a worker clocked in."

"I see. Perhaps we will have to arrange a meeting elsewhere, then, at a different time."

"What kind of venture are you looking to discuss?"

"I employ several accountants over the various sectors of the companies I run."

The word 'companies' as a plural was not lost to Seto's ears.

"One of them, a younger gentleman, claims that he was once acquainted with your family."

Seto only needed a second to think.

"Roland?" he asked.

"That would be the man. He also claims that you are in the market for a buyer. I thought we might be able to strike a deal."

Seto raised his eyebrows.

"I appreciate the sentiment. I did speak with Roland on the subject."

Dartz frowned. "Is his information no longer accurate?"

"That isn't it. I simply am not prepared to strike a deal. I am not ready to be out of the business just yet."

"I see. What a shame. And I had thought, after the bad publicity you've just received, you would be willing to step down at the earliest opportunity."

"I don't have outside options lined up yet," Seto answered, choosing to avoid discussing the accursed article. He was surprised that Dartz had heard about the issue so soon, and yet he wasn't entirely, after hearing all the other personal information the man already had on him.

"And you're turning down my proposition with certainty, without even hearing what I am willing to offer?"

Seto wanted to take in a deep, long breath, but he wouldn't allow himself the obvious body language during an exchange with such a well-known and clearly battle-hardened man. He didn't need to know much about him to know he made fortunes buying and selling companies.

"I owe it to myself to at least hear you out," Seto said. "When would you be available to meet again?"

"I will leave the scheduling up to you."

The answer surprised Seto, but he didn't comment.

"I can be available at five-thirty this evening, or any other evening this week. If you come back then, I can assure that my shop will be empty and we may talk freely. There are desks and seating in the back room," Seto said, choosing not to mention that sewing machines occupied those desks.

"Very well. Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement this evening. I will return at half past five tomorrow. In the meantime, I will have my assistant work up a contract draft for you to review at the same time this evening."

"I look forward to it," Seto said, even as the man turned toward the exit.

With a slight incline of his head, Dartz left the shop.

Seto began to feel a surge of excitement in his chest that he had never imagined he could feel standing inside of his father's dusty old tailoring shop. Perhaps he could see a way out of the business after all.


	53. Chapter 53

A/N: I apologize for not getting an update out on Sunday-but hey! I updated Moonstruck for the first time in three months...

This gives me a good opportunity to remind everyone that if you want any additional information on my intended schedule or other stuff, check out my profile. I don't post there every time I update or when I miss a week, but it's a lot easier to send a shout out there than it is to edit a chapter I haven't had time to edit yet. So check it out if you want to know what's up.

That's all. I'll update again on Sunday and get back on track from there. Thanks!

~omgagr!

* * *

Seto didn't mention the encounter with Dartz to Atem as he returned to the back room, and Atem did not ask. Atem, in fact, did not speak at all, seeming entirely content to focus on his work in silence.

When Joseph arrived a few minutes later, however, Atem struck up conversation eagerly.

Seto wondered if he had done something wrong in the other man's eyes, but nothing justifiable came to mind. He made himself let it go while the rest of the members of the shop arrived and settled in.

"Daimon," Seto asked as the old man was sitting down at his machine. "How did the pickup go with Schroeder yesterday after I left?"

"He tried to reprimand me for not giving him the discount he was promised."

"He was not promised anything. I told him as much."

"He also said we would not be seeing his young brother in the shop, but I did not understand what he meant."

"It doesn't matter. As long as he paid and took his items."

"Yes. But he claimed that the thread we used on his last order's buttons was a brighter red."

"Next time, tell him to take it outside and look at it in daylight. It makes a difference."

"I will remember that, Sir."

Seto rubbed at his temples, glad at least that the order was over, but irritated nonetheless. He ventured out front to turn on the 'open' sign just in time to see a violet convertible pull up. As the familiar blonde figure stepped out of her car and approached the front door, Seto knew rubbing his head wouldn't do him any good.

"Good morning Seto—oh, I'm sorry," Miss Valentine apologized with a smirk, "I suppose I mean _Mister Kaiba_."

Seto glared at the woman as she walked past him and strode up to the counter.

"We're not booking any new orders until after the end of this month," Seto warned, moving across the shop after her and stepping behind the counter.

"Oh, I'm here for a pick-up." Her smirk said she meant no harm, but her tone was a warning.

Seto didn't move a muscle.

"Did you get a phone call that it was finished?"

"I did."

Seto raised his eyebrows in surprise. His team had started and finished a new order for her already?

"Fine. One moment."

He dipped into the back room and flipped through the rack of finished garments, which were alphabetized by last name. He found her order, pleased to find a bright red _rush_ tag stapled to the order ticket, which meant an automatic thirty percent price increase.

He returned to the front and placed the garment on a hook for her to inspect.

More to Seto's surprise, she ignored the garment and paid attention only to the ticket, which she tore from the garment bag.

"I want to talk about this," she said, waving the ticket at him.

"Miss Valentine, I sincerely hope you are not trying to get a discount. We rushed to get this order complete on time, and therefore you are responsible for paying the rush _fee_."

Mai grinned brightly. "Oh, I'm not just talking about the rush fee. I want you to go ahead and put your big red stamp on this ticket."

Seto glared at the woman. She had already threatened Mokuba, and now she had compromised his own reputation. What else was she willing to take from him?

"You expect me to give you your order without you paying for it? Why on earth would I ever do that for you?"

"Oh, Seto. That's not all you're going to do for me."

Seto smirked dangerously. "Miss Valentine, am I being blackmailed?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I simply believe we have an understanding."

"I am beginning to understand that the only reason you invited me out that evening was so you could end up on top today, isn't it?"

Mai smirked. "Interesting choice of words."

"That was deliberate. Miss Valentine, you owe six hundred and thirty two dollars and eighteen cents, which includes your rush fee. If you're not going to pay we will keep the garment and you can leave."

Mai propped her elbows on the counter and leaned in close.

"I can do a lot more damage with that one photograph than you think, not to mention the fact that I have others. How would you like this photo to end up plastered in all of your brother's classrooms?"

Seto's mouth was a hard line while he considered the implications. Most students would only recognize the phys. ed teacher, but when linked with the article, rumors would catch and spread like fire. Mokuba wouldn't have anywhere to go where he could escape.

That was assuming anyone in his class cared long enough to tease or bully him, but Seto didn't know the students well enough to guess which way it might go.

"I am not giving in to your bullying," Seto finally answered, "but I do want to know what you're after. Say I let you take this order. You'll leave my brother alone?"

"I won't have the photos put up on the walls of his classrooms. I can't promise one won't end up on his locker though."

"Why are you bothering with this? Won't a stunt like that, in _your_ school, hurt you more than him?"

"That won't matter for very long," she answered.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Seto asked.

Mai simply shrugged, but didn't elaborate.

Seto's irritation grew.

"What do you want from me that will keep you from tormenting my brother to appease your psychotic fantasies?"

"I want you to back out of the NYC tournament."

"What? Absolutely not."

Mai waved a finger. "Don't be so quick to answer. I have more ammunition."

"Like what?" he spat.

"I can spin this story even further, if I want to. I can spin it in such a way that even the newspapers want to report about it—maybe not on the front page, but you wouldn't want this story of your slipping reputation posted front and center in the business section, would you?"

"You've already tarnished my business's name. What more do you think a newspaper article would do?"

Mai clicked her tongue. "It would make the issue suddenly "real news". Nobody who reads it and knows about this shop would fail to take it seriously then. And what was that young girl's name? Serenity, I think. Don't you think she would be… _disinterested_ in dating a boy whose family can't keep boundaries? A boy who gets passing grades only because his brother intervenes and does all the _hard_ work?"

"I am not letting you win."

"Speaking of winning," Mai said, "what do you think happens when a person wins a national gaming tournament? National fame, right?"

"I'm not sure I would use the words "fame" and "gaming tournament" in the same sentence."

"Perhaps not to the level of celebrity status, but you can't argue that there will be recognition for the winner."

"Likely. Is that what you're after? And you think my playing will steal your chance?"

"I'm bringing up the point because I happen to be aware that your little shop caters to the creator of the game."

"So?"

"I would be purely shocked if somehow the advertising of this shop didn't come out of the woodwork due to this tournament. Is Mister Pegasus going to be wearing a new creation for the opening ceremony? I'll be he is."

"What is your point?"

"National advertising returns national recognition. Everyone in the country will have heard your name."

"All the more ammunition for you to tarnish it with then," Seto said, understanding dawning on him.

"I knew you would catch on. If you want to ignore my dissuasion and play anyway, you'll regret what happens when you get into the arena, even if you don't win."

Seto began to grind his teeth. He had heard enough.

"If you are not willing to pay for your items at this time, Miss Valentine, you can leave."

"I believe you will go on to regret those words. But if you're nice, I'll give you one chance to take them back."

"Why do you want me to back out of the tournament? Are you threatened by me? You saw me play already. I lost only a few games in. I've only been playing a short while."

"Don't be so modest. If you were playing with your own deck you would have done much better."

"That still doesn't answer my question. Obviously you're planning on attending, yourself. So, why do you want me out?"

"That's not any of your concern, Mister Kaiba."

"I'm afraid you've made it my concern. Or, I wonder? Are you just mad at me for leaving you with blue balls the other night? Perhaps it's not that you're threatened by me, but that you were genuinely interested and now you know you don't have a shot."

"Don't make me laugh!" the woman burst out. "I took you out that night to get the photos, and to see your fighting style. Romantic interest was never a factor."

"You think this tournament is just a set of games to me, don't you? You're wrong. You can't keep me from fighting for what I believe in. I will be attending the tournament."

Mai stood up straight, her eyes narrow. Then she smirked, and reached into her purse, putting Seto on guard. But when she pulled out her hand, in it was a stack of bills. She counted out seven hundreds, and laid them on the counter. Without bothering to inspect, she walked behind the counter, only a foot from where Seto stood, and plucked her order off the hook.

"You will regret your decision, Mister Kaiba. This is not the end."

After she left Seto heard the click of her heels on the sidewalk until they stopped and an engine started.

Seto skipped rubbing his temples and went straight to the drawer of the counter and retrieved a bottle of pain reliever. He swallowed two dry, then grabbed the seven bills. He checked them each with the pen in the cash register drawer, but they all appeared to be authentic. He wasn't surprised, but he had had to check.

Miss Valentine, Seto thought, knew how to negotiate for more than she was willing to settle for. It wasn't, apparently, that she couldn't afford the garment, but that she was simply testing how far she could push Seto.

He refused to be pushed by anyone. Not anymore.

Seto counted the change he would have given if she had waited to receive it, nearly seventy dollars. He stuffed it into the tip jar beside the register, nearly filling the remainder of space in the jar in one motion. It didn't feel right leaving the jar so full in just anyone's reach, but it had never been emptied since Seto had taken over.

He decided to take the time to count it, rather than going in back and dealing with any other problems just yet. Most of the bills were twenties, which Seto figured must have meant that the small change was being exchanged for larger bills to keep the jar from filling up.

While Seto was counting, it dawned on him that Miss Valentine had arrived at nine, during school hours. He wondered how she had worked that out, but couldn't assume it meant she wasn't going to school today. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and opened his messenger.

 _Mokuba,_ he typed, _heads up. You might get some trouble from your favorite teacher today. It couldn't be avoided. If things get bad, just keep your head up and don't listen to a word anyone says to you._

He wouldn't even get a chance to see the text until his class let out, and even then only if he had time or a thought to check it. But it was the best Seto could do for now.

When the tip jar total came to nearly five hundred dollars, Seto wondered about the last time it had been emptied. Not caring so much how his father usually handled the tip jar, Seto sorted out nine stacks of a little more than fifty dollars each. Seto slipped one stack into his wallet for himself and another into his front pocket—maybe it would help shut Noa up later.

He put a paperclip on each of the rest and carried them to the back room.

"Sir," he heard the moment the door swung open, but wasn't paying attention to who was speaking.

"Yes?"

Seto started in Rebecca's corner of the room, but looked up to see who was speaking to him.

"Mister Pegasus wanted his order done by the end of this week," Joseph said. "You want me to pick it up?"

Joseph had his elbow on Atem's desk behind him, as if they had just been in a conversation. Seto pushed away his irritation and turned to Atem.

"What are you working on, Atem?"

"An outside alteration on an off-the-rack suit, from another store."

Seto glanced over to see that he had disassembled the shoulders of the suit jacket and was working to put them back together, fitted. It was an advanced and time-consuming alteration. Even Seto was aware that their shop was among the only ones in the area to even offer the alteration.

Atem was quickly becoming the most reliable tailor of the new hires. But Seto didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had worked on part of the suit worn by the creator of the game they were about to use to compete against one another with. Besides, he was clearly busy.

"I know I can't do the whole thing," Joseph added, "but the pattern's done. I could cut out the fabric and do some of the easy stuff."

"Go ahead. When you get in too deep, pass it off to Daimon."

Daimon nodded his acknowledgment.

"Sure thing, Boss," Joseph said.

Seto let the subject drop, and turned to Rebecca. He slipped one of the stacks of bills onto the corner of her desk.

"Thank you for all of the hard work," he said when he was met with her inquisitive look.

She nodded and took the bills, putting them away without counting them.

"Thank you for the opportunity," she replied with a smile.

Although he had considered pro-rating the amount he gave to each individual, he dismissed the idea. He hadn't been an active owner long enough to know who pulled more weight with helping customers and taking payment, which was typically when tips were given, so he didn't feel that it mattered enough.

Seto passed each of the tailors an equal portion of the tip jar discreetly. Each time he handed out a stack of bills he was met with a puzzled expression. He didn't explain except to thank them. Perhaps, if he found an opportunity to sell soon, an act like this might help the workers feel a touch more loyalty to the shop. Perhaps not enough to save it, but it couldn't hurt.


	54. Chapter 54

After hours, when Kaiba's Coats was shut down for the night, Seto sat at Noa's desk—which he more often thought of as Gozaburo's desk, and couldn't decide if that comforted him or not. The business's tax folders were spread out before him, and a calculator sat in his hand as he tried to figure the business's selling value.

The numbers had changed so drastically since so many of the workers had quit, and Noa had been out of commission for weeks. So he focused on finding a middle ground of profit margins. When he still came up with several varying numbers, he pulled up his cell phone. He opened his browser, searching phone listings for accountants. When he found the number he was looking for, he dialed.

"Roland," came a tired voice on the other end.

"This is Kaiba," Seto said. "I'm in need of a consultation, if you have a free moment."

"Mister Kaiba," Roland said, his voice brightening. "You caught me at a good time. I just finished with a client. What kind of consultation do you need?"

"I don't expect you to give me free advice, so if you want to send me a bill for your time when we're done, I trust you would still have the business address on file."

"Assuming I can assist you in just a phone call, I don't think that would be necessary."

"I don't want to take advantage of your services," Seto insisted.

"But there's a reason you called me, rather than some other accountant, I presume? Don't worry about it. What can I do to help?"

"If you insist. I've been offered an opportunity to negotiate selling Kaiba's Coats."

"Congratulations," Roland said brightly.

"I presume I have you to thank for setting up the contact. He claims to have heard about my desire to sell through you."

"Oh, I see. You wouldn't happen to be talking about… Dartz, would you?"

Seto smirked. "My father would be rather impressed, and likely confounded, if he knew Dartz was now a client of yours. I'm glad to see you're having some success in your career."

"Thank you. But I hope I didn't overstep by speaking to him."

"I told you I was in the market for a buyer. It just happens that he'll be sending his assistant back in about—" Seto pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time. "In about twelve minutes. I'm assuming I can expect him to keep his appointment?"

"He's very punctual."

"I thought so. In the meantime, I still need to come up with some idea of my business's value. I've been crunching a few numbers, but I need some direction. Do you have any experience with valuing businesses?"

"Certainly. Has your coursework not covered calculating business value yet?"

"It has, so I have some idea how to come up with a number. I've been multiplying my annual profit by four."

"That's a good rule of thumb. You seem to have a handle on this."

"But I don't have your experience. What time frame should I be using to calculate my profits? The current year? The most recent full fiscal year? Or should I take an average?"

"You said Dartz is planning to negotiate, is that correct?"

"Yes. We haven't discussed a deal yet."

"Then all you need now is a number in your head. No matter who your buyer ends up being, you don't want to get lowballed."

"Agreed."

"Since KC's business model, I assume, necessarily had to have changed since you took over your father's post, you can't exactly use an average of past profit margins as a sample of what your buyer might see in the future. Essentially, he's buying your profit, and if he expects a certain number that he can't seem to reach, the deal may go sour."

"So I can't use an average, then."

"I would advise you to use a projection. Being realistic, calculate how many suits your workers can produce in a given time period. Say, a week, or a month, or even two weeks. Add in whatever you would take in for outside alterations in the same time period—are you still accepting outside alterations?"

"We are."

"Right. Then multiply out until you have an income number for fifty-two weeks. I believe I can remember some of the numbers I usually worked with as your father's accountant, but I'd like to know what you come up with."

Seto had most of his numbers written down already, so he added up his profits and calculated them for a year like Roland suggested.

"At a fifteen percent profit margin, I come up with roughly seventy-five grand, yearly."

"The numbers off the top of my head come close to eighty, if I remember correctly."

"So KC was more profitable when my father owned it," Seto said, a touch of bitterness lacing his words.

"I wouldn't say that. If half your employees quit and you're still close to keeping up with him, I'd say you're doing impressively well."

"Then why does my bank account claim I'm not bringing in nearly as much profit as these projections suggest?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically.

"Are you giving away a lot of product?"

" _I'm_ not."

"But someone is."

"I'm working on putting a stop to it. But there is also a lack of efficiency with my new employees, and Noa has been out of work for weeks, so we're not producing at the same rate as what we _should_ be."

"Which means fewer clients are able to come and pay you. You have quite a few orders that are behind, I take it?"

"Of course."

"If you were to hold on to the shop another six months, I would expect things to even out. If you're intent on selling, however, I'm sure a new owner could sort them out as well, and you won't have the headache."

"I prefer the latter. So, this seventy-five thousand dollars is the number I multiply by four?"

"Correct."

"Then my business is worth three hundred thousand dollars?" Seto asked, still feeling like he was doing this simple math wrong somehow. The numbers didn't quite make sense.

"You own the prestigious Kaiba's Coats. Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I suppose because I can figure that if my business makes seventy-five thousand dollars a year in profit, I should be taking home a little more of it."

"You are at a disadvantage, not knowing as much about the industry as your father did."

"Then Dartz will be at a disadvantage as well. Why would he be interested in buying?"

"Because Dartz can afford to find and appoint someone who does know the industry. Trust me, I do a portion of his bookkeeping. He can afford it, on just what he makes off the one company of his whose finances I assist in accounting for."

"I believe you. He wouldn't be known as the wealthiest man in the hemisphere otherwise."

There was a brief knock on the glass door Seto had locked nearly thirty minutes ago.

"Speaking of, I believe his assistant has arrived."

"Just a quick tip, if I may?" Roland inquired.

"You may," Seto agreed, getting up and making his way to the front shop.

"I implore you not to accept his first decent offer too eagerly, no matter what it is."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"I wish you well, Mister Kaiba."

"I appreciate the assistance," Seto said before hanging up.

He slipped the phone into his pocket as he reached the door, to find a man he didn't know staring at him through the glass.


	55. Chapter 55

The man had light hair but long sideburns and dark glasses. He wore a long violet coat, his muscles nearly bursting out of. Seto hesitated to unlock the door, until the man glanced at a watch on his wrist, and then over his shoulder toward a black car with tinted windows. A motorcycle was parked in the spot beside it.

Seto flipped the lock and pulled the door open halfway, not enough for the man to step inside.

"Are you Dartz's assistant? He mentioned he would be sending one."

The man nodded once, no-nonsense. He gave no introduction before thrusting a manilla envelope through the half-open door into Seto's hand.

Seto took the folder and opened the door enough to invite the man inside, but rather than enter he moved to the side with his back against the outside of the glass window of the shop. He reminded Seto of a security guard, and he realized that the man probably was. Even though there appeared to be no one for him to guard at the moment, Seto appreciated the diligence.

He let the door fall shut and carried the folder to the front counter, where he would be able to see if Dartz's assistant wanted to speak, or needed to leave. He opened the folder to a single sheet of paper on impressively elegant letterhead.

The paper was a contract, as Dartz had promised, but the copy had "Not an Official Document" stamped in large red letters across the signature lines. Seto scanned the draft for any amount of money, but it seemed that Dartz wasn't willing to reveal his numbers yet.

That was fine. Not only was Seto not set on accepting the first offer Dartz made, he wasn't set on accepting Dartz as the first buyer. But Roland had a point when he implied that the man could afford to fix the business's problems in ways that were unavailable to Seto, due to lack of capital.

Seto frowned as he began to read the proposal, which specified that Seto was to step down from ownership, but remain attached to the business for a contracted twelve months, in order to keep the Kaiba name involved with the shop, for "publicity purposes". The contract did not define what was meant by this.

Problems arose in Seto's mind immediately. Not only was the idea unappealing, but it also seemed impossible. What could he even do to contribute to the workload? He didn't know how to sew. He could file and organize and manage, but not sew.

No matter what Dartz had planned for him, there was simply nowhere for him to work. There was no office space even if there was office work for him to do as an employee, and if Dartz actually expected him to tailor, there were no free machines for him to work on, let alone learn on.

"Working under him, in _this shop,_ for an entire year?" Seto scoffed.

While selling before he was ready to build his own income wouldn't work out without some major planning, working alongside Noa as an equal wasn't the least bit appealing and did not seem worth having a reliable income and time to prepare his own business.

He wondered what his brothers would say. Mokuba, almost certainly, would be eager for the deal to go through if it meant starting an endeavor that benefited them both. But how would he feel about the necessary delay of plans if Seto took on the employee role?

He suspected, however, that Noa just might cut him out of his non-existent will when he learned about the deal, if it panned out in the first place. Initially, Noa would either scream until his face turned blue, or stop speaking to him entirely. The latter, of course, would be preferred, but Seto rarely counted himself that lucky.

But the implications _were_ favorable. Dartz had the kind of money to make the establishment what Seto could only hope to make it with years of effort and saving. And apparently, he had the interest to do something useful with that money, as well—an interest that Seto lacked.

He was still deep in contemplation about the agreement when the bulky man knocked on the door again. When he looked up from the paper, Dartz's assistant stood in front of the glass door. Seto rose and opened it.

"I have a few issues with this contract," Seto said, right off the bat.

The man seemed disinterested in discussing Seto's issues.

"You have been given time to review my employer's proposal. You may discuss any adjustments with him personally tomorrow at half past five."

The man held out his hand and waited as if he expected Seto to give him something. A tip? That didn't seem right.

"What are you waiting for?" Seto asked.

"The contract. He would like it returned to him."

Seto thought this was a little strange—it wasn't an official document anyway. But he didn't argue, and placed the folder back into the assistant's hand. He tucked it into a briefcase and walked away without a word.

He personally thought the man cold and a bit rude, although the fact didn't particularly bother him. Seto found he preferred the man's professionalism and curtness to the "coziness" and over-familiarity that had overtaken Kaiba's Coats in recent months.

He watched the man as he walked stoically to a motorcycle and strap the briefcase to a compartment behind the seat. He drove off, following the black car, before Seto could get back inside and away from the exhaust fumes. He locked the door again and began shutting down the shop.

* * *

"Seto?" Mokuba asked when Seto stepped in through the back door.

Seto put down his briefcase in the entryway and accepted Mokuba's hug.

"What is it?"

"I got your text earlier. Your warning about Miss Valentine. I don't know what you were talking about though. Today was a normal day."

"Even after that article came out?" Seto asked, leading the way to the living room where they both sat down on the sofa. "You said it had been posted everywhere."

For once, Noa wasn't taking up the whole living room, wasting the day on what was mainly Seto's laptop. There wasn't a sign of him, and Seto didn't spend more than a second thinking about him.

"I don't think any of my classmates saw it yet. Have you been able to get it taken down?"

"I don't think it's going to be that easy."

Mokuba's face fell. "Why not?"

"Because Miss Valentine herself sold the photograph to the blogger who wrote that article. If I get it taken down, she'll just sell it to somebody else. Even if someone managed to get to her phone and delete the photos she took, she probably has copies on her computer or in a backup service."

"Didn't you talk to the school about her conduct?"

"I have a feeling she isn't attached to her job. If I had to guess, she plans to leave it soon anyway."

"Good. She's hot, but not hot enough to have to put up with her bullying."

"Even if the school goes ahead and forces her to resign, the damage will still be done to you and to me. If getting her fired won't stop her, there's not much else I can do."

Mokuba let out a frustrated grunt and punched the seat of the sofa.

"Why did you have to almost sleep with her!"

"If you were older, and she was coming on to you, don't you think you might have done the same?"

Mokuba let out a groan and threw his head against the back of the sofa.

"Maybe," he bit out.

"At least I had the sense to back out with my dignity intact."

"So what does she want?"

"My assumption, based on the threats she gave me today, is that she wants to win the tournament we're going to."

Mokuba lifted his head from the backrest and stared at Seto.

"What?"

"Think about it. She never wanted you to go. In the beginning she threatened to deny your excused absence. She must have already been signed up by that point. Then she somehow figured out I'm participating."

"She might have heard me talking about it at school."

"That sounds likely."

"But how did you know she's a duelist? Did she say it?"

"I know I didn't tell you at the time that Miss Valentine was my companion for the…" he paused, searching for words, " _platonic outing_ we had the other night, but she's the one who showed me the underground gaming club. It surprised me at the time, too."

"'Platonic' my a—"

" _Watch it_ ," Seto interrupted.

Mokuba scowled. "So she planned this whole thing from then? How sick. What is she even trying to accomplish?"

"If she's willing to lose her job over this, she must be confident that not only would she be capable of browbeating both of us out of competing against her, but also that she would take home first place against whoever remains. Although I'm not sure I would call her confident if she has to sink to such levels just to win at something."

"No kidding. She's going way over the top for all this. And does she really think she's better than Yugi and Atem?"

"She either must think so, or isn't familiar with them and their skill levels."

"If she wins then I guess she wouldn't need to work for a while. We're getting in the way of her retirement plans, then?"

"I guess so. But you know, after all the garbage she's thrown at our family this month, I would be more than willing to throw a wrench in her plans."

"So, you're going to fight her? _We're_ going to fight her?"

"I'm not letting her desire to live without working get in the way of your dreams for your future. Your goals are more important to me than any threat she could make."

"But even if we win, won't she just find a new way to retaliate?"

"I can only see one way of us both getting out from under her thumb."

"What's that?"

"She won't have any power over you in a school where she had never taught. She can't have any power over me if I'm no longer the owner of a business where she would have an interest in being a client. How much would you fight me if I told you you need to change schools?"

"Isn't this like the talk we had about moving a few weeks ago? I'd be fine. I used to think she was the only one I would really miss, but at this point a new school would be a welcomed change. Like I said, most of my best friends are online."

"That's what I thought. And I'm planning to sell the business as soon as I am able to."

Seto didn't know how strongly he felt about selling to Dartz, but even if he found another buyer instead, he planned to sell sooner rather than later.

"Any new business I create wouldn't likely suit her interests. And even if I'm wrong, I would have the right not to serve her."

"So, we can at least get away from her influence…"

"Whether we win or lose the prize money, we'll get away, but if we win then we'll be even more set to cut her strings, and she'll have to be stuck teaching once she gets a new job somewhere else."

A sudden humming rose above the sound of their conversation, from the direction of Noa's room. Seto narrowed his eyes at Noa's door.

"Is he _sewing_?" Seto asked.

"Actually, yeah. He's been at it all afternoon, ever since I got home from school. Probably before."

"How? He just wrenched his ankle again yesterday."

"Don't know. But I heard him sewing—and swearing—quite a few days this week."

"I wonder if he's trying to practice using his other foot," Seto thought aloud.

"That sounds like it would be frustrating."

"Which might explain the profanity. But why? He should be resting. He still has a few weeks before I'll have to take him back to the doctor for his final checkup."

"I'm sure he's just bored, and probably tired of resting."

"Do you know if he's still taking his medication?"

"At night, I think. It helps him sleep. Hey, what's going to happen to him when we're gone?"

"He found someone to stop by and check on him, and probably bring him food."

"Someone?"

"He didn't say who. We didn't talk about it."

"I wonder who gave him the ride home yesterday, too. Do you know?"

"I was wondering that, too."

"Noa doesn't really, um, get out much. You would have known if it was a co-worker. Could it be a friend from high school?"

Seto shook his head. "He didn't make a lot of friends in high school. Not close friends, anyway. For that matter, neither did I. We skipped grades, remember? So our classmates were always older than us, and there was not as much common interest."

"Yeah, I remember. I always thought it was really cool that you two were so far ahead. But then, who did he meet with? Did you see what kind of car the person drove?"

"It was white. A little rusted. It could have been anything. Frankly, I was still seeing red when he got picked up, so I was just glad he was gone."

Mokuba nodded absently while staring at the wall that separated the living room from Noa's bedroom.

A _crunch_ sounded and the humming stopped abruptly.

Mokuba faced Seto with knitted brows, until the humming was quickly replaced by a _swish,_ and a _thump_ against the wall. Noa's voice projected clearly through the wall, shouting a whole string of frustrated words.

Seto continued staring at the wall. After a few seconds the room fell silent.

"He must have broken a needle when he couldn't stop his foot on time, and then… I think he threw the whole damn project against the wall."

"I don't know, that was a pretty loud noise."

"Maybe he accidentally threw his shears with it? It's the only thing I can think of."

Mokuba's face brightened into a smirk as he seemed to be imagining the scene with Noa's characteristically over-the-top reactions.

Seto did the same. Imagining the frustrated look on Noa's face as he whipped the heap of fabric across his room forced Seto to break out into laughter. But when Mokuba followed until both brothers were roaring with laughter, Seto had to hush him quickly and stifle his own laughter until they were only snickering, before Noa could have a chance to hear them.


	56. Chapter 56

A/N: I am not going to apologize for this post being late. I spent Sunday at Six Flags, and I am not sorry. So there's that. Enjoy!

* * *

Seto spent the evening in his bedroom reading sewing tutorials and watching visual "how-to's" at his computer. By the time he needed to sleep, all he was confident he had learned was that he needed to physically apply the methods described to solidify his understanding, and also that there were far too many various methods of sewing to know which ones to trust.

He didn't want to admit that he needed a teacher, but he couldn't forget hearing his father complain about the workers he hired who had had their training under someone else. It made sense, then, to at least remain open to the concept of working best in a shop where everyone used the same general methods.

Seto was astounded at the number of differing ways he found to make something as simple as a necktie, or the slit of a dress shirt sleeve. Unable to differentiate which methods were trusted as the traditionally "correct" way of sewing, Seto had no choice but to put his research to a rest for the night and go to sleep.

Although he might have preferred learning under anyone else in his shop but his twin brother, he had to admit that Noa was the most accessible teacher he had. Seto could be as attentive as he wanted in the shop, and he would only learn so much. As he lay in bed, he contemplated the best way to request tutoring from Noa.

He decided on requesting not _how_ to sew, so much as which ways to do the work. He could familiarize himself with the methods on his own, as long as he knew which ones Noa, and by extension their father, would have found acceptable.

* * *

The next morning, Seto woke early and returned to his computer. Rather than continuing his fruitless work of sewing research, he dug up the article Mai had commissioned in order to sabotage his name. To his dismay, Mokuba had been correct. The article was posted on every social media platform Seto knew of, and a few he hadn't even heard of. He found dozens of pages linking to the original article.

After a little digging on the name of the blogger, Espa, Seto found that the writer used a pen name. He found the writer's real name on an outdated public blog linked to another one of 'Espa's' accounts, dug a little more for a phone number, and contacted him.

"Hello?" came the voice of a young man over the phone, just as there was a knock on Seto's bedroom door.

"Is this 'Espa'?" Seto asked, ignoring the knock.

He glanced at the clock on his computer screen. Mokuba would need to leave for school any minute.

The man on the line was silent a moment, and the knocking returned. Seto stood and answered his door.

Mokuba, dressed for school with his book bag hanging off one shoulder, opened his mouth, but Seto raised a finger to his lips, signaling quiet.

"Who wants to know?" the voice finally replied.

"Seto, I have to go," Mokuba whispered. "Aren't you going to work?"

Seto glanced at the clock again, and shook his head. He would be late, by Noa's standards, but he had promised Mokuba he would do his best to take care of the issue.

"This is Seto Kaiba," he said as he leaned in to give Mokuba a hug. "As in from Kaiba's Coats."

The _gulp_ from the other end was audible.

Seto waved as Mokuba trudged down the hallway, and closed his bedroom door again.

"I am aware of a certain slanderous article that I believe you were paid to write by the very subject of the article."

The man on the other end suddenly raised his voice.

"So what? Why should I care that you're a Kaiba? I don't work for you. I took a paying job, that's all. Besides, the article has already been written. There are copies of it everywhere! What do you expect me to do about it now?"

Seto narrowed his eyes. "I expect you to delete the original and any copies you have control over, thus breaking most of the links that have been posted. If you don't, I'll be forced to sue you for slandering my company's name."

"I'm a reporter. I write the stories that come to me. I've seen the photographs of you and my client, so you can't tell me that I've written complete lies. You can't sue me for exposing the truth. The public of Domino City deserves to know!"

Seto chuckled. "You are not a reporter. You are a blogger, a wannabe writer who gets paid to lie—or twist the truth, if you prefer—if it sells a story that creates ad revenue for you. And if the version of the story you published was really true, then I might be inclined to agree with you, but I'm not that kind of person."

"These photos suggest otherwise," the man snapped.

"Those photos don't tell half the story. Did Miss Valentine tell you that _she_ lured _me_ out that night? That I was only in her bed at _her_ request? Did she tell you that she's essentially blackmailing me through you?"

"Why should I listen to you?" Espa asked after a beat.

"Because if you don't, you'll be hearing from my lawyer, and suddenly whatever piddly scrap you were given to write this slander won't add up to much against your legal fees. The choice is yours."

The line again fell silent.

"And what if I take down the original article? My client will demand her money back. How does that benefit me?"

"It benefits you by enticing me to call off my lawyer."

"I think you're bluffing. You won't sue me."

Seto ground his teeth, irritated. "And are you willing to call me on my bluff?"

"Yes. I refuse to take the article down. Freedom of speech, you know."

"Fine," Seto chuckled darkly. "Have it your way. You can expect a call in a matter of hours."

Seto pulled the phone away to hang up, but heard the man reply.

"Wait!" Espa said.

"Changed your mind?" Seto smirked.

"What if I were interested in… _changing_ the story? I'd like to hear more about your side."

"I hope you don't expect to get paid twice to rewrite the article in my favor. You won't get a dime out of me."

"No, that's okay. I'll do this one for free."

"How generous," Seto drawled.

He was glad. While he hadn't been bluffing, he wasn't looking forward to paying a lawyer for something he shouldn't have had to do in the first place.

Seto relayed the events of the night as he recalled them, and added in some of the background of Mai's bullying toward Mokuba. He tried to play down anything that involved his little brother, but Espa seemed highly interested in that aspect of the story.

"How soon will this re-write overtake the original version of your story?"

"I can have it written in as little as two weeks."

"Two weeks? Are you kidding me?" Seto barked. "How long does it take to write down two thousand words? I've just given you the whole story!"

"Yes, but… I have other contracts I'm working on in the mean time. Paid contracts."

Seto scoffed. "Are you seriously trying to tell me you still expect me to pay you to get on the top of your to-do list?"

"No… no… I already agreed that this was free," Espa said in a panic.

"Then what do I have to do to get this article written?"

"It's not that easy…"

"Damnit, just tell me your price!"

"I sometimes take out contracts with clients, you see. A promise, that their story will remain promoted on my front page for a certain time period."

"And Miss Valentine's contract isn't up yet, is that what you're saying?"

"Y-yes."

"So she paid extra for this 'service' you provide?"

"She did."

"Then void her contract and consider the rest of her pay to be my fare to get to the top of your list, or you will _still_ be hearing from my lawyer."

"I can't void her contract, or I'll have to return her fee."

"Why do seem bent on making that _my_ problem? You're the one who is screwing me over. Do you realize what kind of effect this is having on my business?"

It wasn't having much of an effect at all, yet, but Dartz felt like it was a pressing issue, and if Seto could get it taken care of, then perhaps he would let up on the idea of making Seto work for him. It would also help Seto if he didn't have to worry about a widespread slandering of his name before he could even make one for himself.

"I can't void a client contract. You'll just have to wait it out."

"I'm not buying that. Void her contract or—"

Seto was interrupted by a click. Espa had hung up on him.

Seto dialed the number again, but it went straight to voice mail. He clutched his phone tightly, fighting against the urge to hurl it into the wall. With his luck it would break, and add to his mounting list of things to deal with, and pay for.

He contemplated filing a suit like he had threatened, but while he didn't want to be known for making empty threats, he didn't feel that he had time for the hassle, or the funds for the expense. If he sold the business to Dartz, the issue would be out of his hands soon enough. But his name still wouldn't be clear.

Seto forced a breath, stood and crammed his phone into the pocket of his slacks. He would try again later, and block his number from the 'reporter's' caller ID if he could. He focused instead on getting ready to go in to the shop for the day. He threw on a gray sport coat and his shoes and left the room.

When he made it downstairs, Noa was already in the living room, glaring at Seto.

"Is it because I'm 'late'?" Seto asked without waiting for Noa to pounce on him. "I'm leaving in a minute. I was trying to take care of that atrocious article, if you care."

Noa didn't answer, although his glare softened somewhat.

"I've decided," Noa said without looking at Seto, "that while you and Mokuba are gone, I'll need to be in the shop. You might not believe this, but I've been practicing sewing with my left foot."

"I know," Seto droned as he ventured into the kitchen. He opened a new box of meal-replacement bars and stuffed one into the pocket of his jacket.

"You know?" Noa called, sounding deflated.

"Your machine is pressed up against the wall. Mokuba and I can hear it rattling the windows in the living room. You're not nearly as stealthy as you think."

Noa went back to glaring.

"You should go. You're really late now."

Seto lingered a moment, wondering if he should talk to Noa about teaching him to sew, or if he should just leave like he wanted. While it didn't feel like the time to ask for a favor, talking about an opportunity to lord his experience over Seto again might diffuse the mounting tension. Seto was willing to throw him that bone.

"What?" Noa barked.

Seto exhaled because he had begun to grow hot under his jacket at the thought, but tried not to make a show of it. Why was asking for a favor from Noa—rather, a necessary development—so difficult for him to do?

"Sometime soon," Seto started, "I need you to give me a few pointers."

"For what?"

"I'm going to try to do what you said in the beginning of this fiasco, and learn to sew."

Noa scoffed. "Why bother?"

"Because I can see your point," Seto lied, "in how it can help me run the business more smoothly."

Noa glared at the wall a moment, but his expression slowly softened.

"I can try. I can't promise to be able to teach you if you're no good to begin with, though."

"That's all I need to hear for now," Seto relented, mostly so that Noa would stop with the backhanded insults.

"Now go, you're late!" Noa urged.

Seto grabbed his briefcase, which he had left by the stairs, snagged Noa's car keys off the hook by the garage door, and left.


	57. Chapter 57

When Seto finally made it into Kaiba's Coats, Vivian was out front teaching Rebecca how to take measurements. The client she used as a sample was a man Seto had seen his whole life but had never connected with a name. He seemed content to stand still while Rebecca asked questions and took down his numbers on a pad in her hand.

Both members of his staff greeted him, but Rebecca did not meet his gaze as he passed by.

Yugi was at the front desk taking care of a young man who seemed to be getting impatient. Yugi fumbled a handful of coins while handing him his change and had to crawl on hands and knees to chase the rolling coins. The client began tapping his foot and crossed his arms, glaring at Seto as he approached.

Seto stepped on a runaway quarter just before Yugi could catch it.

"Get off the floor, Yugi."

Yugi's eyes rolled up to meet Seto's sour expression, and his face flushed white. He swallowed hard and obeyed, abandoning the rest of the change on the floor.

"Y-yes, Sir," he stammered.

"Do not force paying customers to wait while you fix your mistakes. Grab more change from the register and move on."

Yugi dropped the coins he had collected on the counter and, with shaking hands, started again.

"Yes, Sir. S-sorry," Yugi stuttered more.

"I apologize for my employee," Seto said to the man, still waiting while Yugi counted the change twice. "He's relatively new here, and quite frankly, is not authorized to be out front."

"I have a flight to catch," the man snapped, glaring at Yugi. "Can we hurry this up?"

Yugi tried to rush, but when he tried to attach the man's receipt to his garment bag, the stapler jammed. He tried again and only managed to stick the plastic bag to the stapler itself as he became more flustered. He managed to free the stapler from the bag, but only by ripping a hole in the corner.

"I-I'm sorry. We have another stapler in the back. One moment, please. I'll get you a new garment bag as well."

Seto dropped his briefcase and grabbed the stapler from Yugi's hand, unhinged it, and smacked it once on the counter top. A bent staple flew out, with a bite of the plastic garment bag attached. He folded the stapler again, tested it, and in one fluid motion he slapped the receipt over the hole and snapped two more staples over it.

He flung the garment off its hook and over the counter, into the client's waiting hand.

"I apologize for the delay. Enjoy your flight."

The man raised his eyebrows, smirked, then spun on his heel with a 'thank you'.

When he had gone, Seto turned to Yugi with a glare.

"Pick up your change and sort this mess out," he said in a low voice so as not to attract attention from the other clients browsing the shop during KC's morning rush.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Yugi said resolutely, managing not to stutter. "Everyone in back was busy, so I helped him."

"While I appreciate seeing my workers' willingness to step up, I don't wish it so much that you would make an idiot of yourself in front of customers. You represent this business, and therefore, you represent _me_ , and I do _not_ appreciate you making a fool of my name."

Yugi nodded and said nothing, staring at the counter top while he counted his dropped change back into the register.

"You may have some abilities at the machine, but if you can't take care of a simple transaction, you are not cut out to make it in this business."

Yugi nodded again, still saying nothing.

"Get back to your work," Seto barked when Yugi closed the register.

He picked up his briefcase and followed Yugi to the work room. He unloaded at Noa's desk like usual, then headed to the work bar to evaluate the load.

"Looks like we're startin' to catch up, eh?" Joseph boasted from his machine.

"Barely," Seto muttered. "Let's not get too cocky. We have a tough week ahead of us," he warned.

He sorted the orders on the rack, arranging them according to complexity and the rough estimate of hours for each project. Then he came across a set of orders from a pair of twin men, who wanted an unusual set of garments made.

The garments had the appearance of traditional Asian garb, with stylistic alterations. The sleeves had been removed, and the front of the jacket wrapped across the chest, with a high standing collar fitted close to the neck.

With a few more modifications, Seto found that he might actually like the garment quite a bit. It wasn't 'traditional' by any means, and that was part of its appeal. He took note that the pattern measurements weren't too different from his own size.

He pulled the orders aside. Both patterns had already been drafted, and the garments had only to be made. It seemed like a good fit for two beginners whose abilities he wanted to test. He checked the tags again and saw the names of the clients, the Meikyu brothers.

Seto recognized the name, but not well enough to put faces to it. Still, he remembered the adult twins who had come in from time to time while Gozaburo owned the shop, recalling that it was always somewhat of a challenge to keep their orders separated and with the correct paperwork. He recalled that they didn't come from money, and were usually fairly polite.

Which meant that if someone made a drastic beginner's mistake on their items, it would not bring about the end of the world, like with some clients.

As he hung the garments on a side bar to assign later, Seto noticed that something had felt off since he entered the workroom, but was finally able to put a finger on the feeling. He felt at ease. He could relax.

Even Yugi's blunder earlier didn't linger as an irritant, but he couldn't pinpoint why. Something vague that might usually put him in a mood just didn't appear to be a factor. He couldn't credit it to Noa's absence, as he'd been gone for weeks.

For some reason today Seto didn't feel as tense and… on display. He didn't feel he was being watched.

His eyes darted around the room. Everyone was bustling about doing their own work. Vivian and Rebecca had returned from the front and resumed work at their machines. He settled his gaze on Atem.

There. _His_ eyes were not on Seto. For once, he didn't feel the constant burn of their intense gaze.

He wondered about it for a moment, then recalled that Atem had discovered the article he had tried getting removed earlier in the morning. Could his new distance have something to do with it?

While Seto pondered, he realized that Atem was not the only one treating him with an extra hint of indifference. Rebecca, in fact, had been somewhat contemptuous around him the few times she had bothered to look in his direction.

Without any answers, Seto had no choice but to go back to the bar to resume sorting the next week's work, but in the back of his mind the indignance of his employees—the ones he had stuck his neck out for in order to employ—was weighing on him.

He heard a snort of laughter from the corner of the room. When he spun around he saw Joseph trembling from fighting an apparent fit of laughter. He was facing Atem's desk with a garment in his hand. Atem was covering his own mouth with his hand, but his eyes were clearly gleeful.

Not caring enough to wonder what was so funny, Seto eyed the work bar for each of the men. The morning was still fairly early, but it appeared that neither of them had made much of a dent in the work. While Seto had no intentions of running a sweatshop, he felt he was being taken advantage of.

Seto stepped up between the desks and put a hand on the corner of either, leaning over so he was eye-to-eye with the men.

"Gentlemen, do I look like a primary school teacher to you?"

Joseph and Atem glanced at each other, wearing confused but suddenly somber expressions.

"Uh… No?" Joseph answered, though a snicker seemed to be creeping up on his face while he flashed Atem a sideways glance.

"Of course not, Sir," Atem declared.

"Good. Then it shouldn't surprise you that I am not in the business of babysitting. But if you two wish to act like children, I will be forced to treat you like children. Do _not_ make me have to separate you two. Because if I have to do that, you'll wish I planned to escort you to new stations, when in fact, you'll be escorted to the door. Do I make myself clear?"

"My apologies, Sir," Atem said. "I was being… unprofessional."

"Won't happen again," Joseph assured, sobering.

"No, I expect it won't. Get your work done. You'll have time to play when you clock out."

Seto could curse himself for his own carelessness when the words slipped out, and Joseph and Atem nodded to each other, as if silently making plans to make plans. Seto didn't _want_ them to have time to play when they clocked out, but he'd been in such a single-tracked mindset when he'd said it that it could hardly have been helped.

He stood up, biting his tongue. He returned to Noa's desk and opened his briefcase, sliding his laptop out. He hadn't been in a habit of bringing it along, but was glad he had. He tucked it under his arm and grabbed a supply catalog off a rack on the counter top below the phone.

"Is anyone aware of supplies I need to order," Seto asked, raising his voice over the noise of the room, "that have not made it onto the supply list?"

Seto did not want to repeat the episode with von Schroeder, if he had any way to avoid it.

Most employees shook their heads and continued their work. Vivian stood and led Seto to the intake bar, pulling out an outside alterations job, consisting of several pairs of moisture-wicking sport pants in very unusual shades of blue, gray and red.

"We need thread to match these colors. We don't have anything like them in stock. Even the gray is different from our shades."

"Fine. Can you find me the item numbers?"

"I can show you where to look. I doubt you want me to take the time away from work to match threads."

"Whatever."

Vivian took the order off the bar and led him to another section of the shop where a color chart was pinned to the wall.

"This is what Mister Kaiba—your Pops, that is—always used. Noa started marking the numbers we like to keep in stock with the little stars."

"I can promise you, Miss Wong, I have never called or referred to that man as 'Pops' at any point in my life."

Vivian snickered. "Sure. Anyway, Noa likes to get three spools of anything he orders."

"Why three? That sounds like a waste of money. What if I order it and the color's off?"

Vivian shrugged. "Because then we can run it on the serger if we need to use it to finish off seams or hems."

"Each spool is three thousand yards. You can't split that up onto bobbins? I see people running them as spools on the serger all the time."

"It's not preferable. Sure, if there are some already wound, that's great. But the machine takes a lot of thread, so they have to be full bobbins, and it takes time to wind them when we don't have some already. Hey, I'm just telling you what Noa likes to do."

"You know what Noa doesn't like to do? The bookkeeping. Or paying any of the bills whatsoever. Of course he wants to order extra supplies."

"Well…" Vivian began to argue, "It does actually save a lot of time not having to wind bobbins every time. That extra ten minutes is time I could be using to get another hem done, every time."

"Fine. If it's that big of a deal, I'll order three."

Seto grabbed the order of pants from Vivian, the bundle of hangers draping from fingertips of the arm he used to pin his laptop to his side. He grabbed the chart off the wall with his other hand and clutched it against the catalog.

"If you need anything I'll be out front, but try to manage on your own."

"Of course, Sir."

* * *

He unloaded at the front desk, dropping the catalog and chart on the counter beside his computer and hanging the pants up on the hook behind him. He returned to the back room and grabbed the phone, and the supply sheet off the wall below it. When he settled in to the counter, he set himself up to the task of matching colored thread.

When he was done placing his order, mostly buttons, lining fabric, thread cones and trouser zippers, he spent a bit of time on his coursework, getting ever closer to the highly-anticipated end of his degree. But the idea of conducting a project with his employees still plagued him, and he wasn't sure what he would come up with.

Group projects he could foresee himself undertaking involved his idea of running a business, which required far fewer sewing machines and far more conference rooms and coffee breaks. He envisioned a team with college degrees in marketing or economics, brainstorming together to find a solution to a problem he could present them with.

He envisioned a white board scribbled with notes and graphs displayed on a tripod at the corner of room, which would be brightly illuminated with natural light from the wall of windows. Or better yet, he would use a computer projector wirelessly connected to a drawing tablet in his hands to show his notes and graphs to the brainstorm team.

He did not imagine himself working in a closed off room with no view of the outside, inhaling cotton thread dust and tuning out the constant drone of industrial motors. But here he was, and until a deal—any deal—came through to get him out of the place, he was stuck.

Stuck in a leased single-story brick building with no windows in the back, living out his brother's dream in his father's shop that he never wanted to be a part of.


	58. Chapter 58

A/N: Bonus chapter. I'd really like to keep things moving for a bit. I might hit a slow-posting trend in October, and November is NaNoWriMo (!) and I'll be busy, so we'll see how it goes. Actually, the 'novel' I want to write for this year's NaNo is actually a re-write of this story, so I'm trying really hard to finish (most of) this version first. I love the input you guys give, it's so valuable!

Side note: A few chapters ago, a guest requested as per review that I do a segment with Noa and Mokuba alone together because I haven't shown them interacting one-on-one without Seto present. I love this idea, and I'm all for character interaction. However, as this is written from Seto's perspective, I can't actually do that without breaking perspective for a chapter or so, which is why I haven't done it before. But I would still love to include this, so I'm going to try something else that's pretty close. (Later, though. Not now.)

See, this story is flexible enough that if you guys have things you'd like to see happen, I can still squeeze it in, even though I do have 20+ chapters written after this point. (Not all strictly chronological, though.) So if you do, please let me know! I write for me, but sharing it is useless if it doesn't strike the fancy of the readers. :) That's all. Please enjoy this extra update.

~omgagr

* * *

Most of the time Seto spent out front fell on the morning lull, when the early-bird rush had ended and the lunch rush had yet to begin. A few customers had come in to claim garments, but generally it had been rather quiet.

When the lunch rush began, which happened around twelve thirty and ran well past two, Seto had plenty to keep him busy for the time being. He answered phone calls, set up fitting appointments and handled orders, sometimes doing all three at once. He liked the rush of activity, as well as the multitasking. It kept him on his toes and working at his most efficient.

Eventually the load slowed again, and by four thirty the front room was empty. Seto was satisfied that he was finished with his tasks, which he admitted to himself had been somewhat of a deliberate distraction from the scene between Joseph and Atem. The only item that still lingered on his to-do list was his schoolwork project planning. He had a few ideas and had drafted his report, but accomplishing the project was another matter.

Even if the deal with Dartz fell through, Seto decided he was interested in cutting down on the number of novice workers, and decided to use the opportunity the business tycoon had presented him with. Seto saw no reason to wait for the deal to go through in order to begin. And if he could use the idea as his schoolwork project, all the better.

He stood in the doorway of the back room and called Joseph out front. Seto felt vindicated to see the young man had finally begun to take him seriously regarding his wardrobe. He wore black slacks and a white dress shirt, and even threw an informal-looking gray vest over it.

The vest looked cheap and somewhat ill-fitted, like something he'd purchased at a mall, but Seto couldn't complain. He didn't care for the rolled-up sleeves, but guessed that the blond found it easier to work that way and let it go.

"'Sup?" Joseph asked informally when the door had closed. "Am I in trouble?"

Seto leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "Why do you assume that?"

"I don't. Just askin' is all. Figure this is about me an' Atem goofin' off earlier. Sorry about that, by the way. Guy was just tellin' me a story about a bad move he saw some tough guy make in that card game he sells. Guy even wore a bandana, lookin' like some kind of biker guy, but couldn't play a combo to save his life."

Seto scoffed. 'That card game'? Joseph didn't even know the name of the game his co-worker took so seriously? How rather attentive, Seto thought indignantly.

"I wouldn't say you're in trouble," he said eventually.

"But… you're not sayin' I ain't. Er, I'm not. Sir."

Seto smirked as Joseph backtracked.

"All I mean to say is, what's this about?"

Seto let his smirk fade.

"You cut out the material for Pegasus' order a few days ago, didn't you?"

"Yeah… Somethin' wrong with the way I did it?"

"Not so far as I can tell. Daimon is finishing up the order today. I encourage you to ask him later, when he's finished. If he has any tips for you, he'll let you know. Be open to staying after if he wants to teach you anything."

"Okay…"

"How did you feel about how it went?"

"Cutting out the material?" He shrugged. "It went fine, I guess. I got half-way through before Viv showed me an easier way to do the markings, but other than that it was fine. Easy stuff."

Seto fought away a cringe at the informal use of Vivian's name. He wondered if she gave her approval of the nickname, but decided it wasn't his battle to fight. Still, he hated the informality the place was falling into.

"I'm interested in giving you an opportunity."

Joseph perked up.

"Yeah? I'm ready."

"I have an order I want you to complete. The pattern is already drafted, so you don't have to worry about that part."

"'Kay, that's good."

"But the rest is up to you. Cutting, sewing, the first _and_ second fittings. If you need another set of eyes for the final fit, I'll grant it to you."

Joseph took a breath, then a gleam shone in his eyes. He made a fist and grinned.

"Bring it on!"

"Before you go charging in, I want to warn you. This will be a competition. There are two nearly identical orders, and you will be completing one of them. Someone else will get the other."

"Oh? Yeah! I like this! Is there gonna be… like, a prize? I don't mean, like, a candy bar, but… I don't know. What are we competing for?"

Seto's smirk returned. "How about the chance to keep your job? Enticing enough? Only one of you will be granted this _prize_ , if that's how you want to look at it. Then you can buy yourself a candy bar, if that's what you want to do with your wages."

Joseph's grin faded.

"Wait a sec. You mean, if I screw this up, I'm fired? Or… if I don't screw it up, someone else is fired?"

"I hired you and three others on a trial basis. This shop is dragging, and I need to free up a machine for someone…" Seto almost said 'more qualified', but he bit his tongue. If Seto was going to be his replacement, then he wasn't sure about that fact yet. "Someone else," he settled for.

"Why me? I've been tryin' real hard."

"I know you have. That's why I'm giving you the opportunity to fight for your position. But the fact still remains that you have very basic abilities. And you're not the only one."

Even so, he had more experience than Seto did. But, Seto had the benefit of growing up watching his father, and later his brother, excel at the craft. He stuck with his theory that he knew more than he felt he might.

"Who am I going up against?"

Seto decided he had no reason to hide the fact. Joseph would see the other garment and know immediately who he was competing against.

"Yugi."

"Yug'? Heck, I thought you were gonna say Atem, since we were foolin' around."

Seto tried his best to brush the comment off.

"Why?" Joseph asked. "He's gotten so good lately. Look, I don't know if I wanna be the cause of someone else losin' their job. I don't know if I can do that."

"That's your decision to make. You'll make my decision all the more simple."

"But…"

"But you need this job, don't you?"

"'Course I do!"

"Listen, Yugi may be good at the machine, but he has his own flaws. I've already spoken to him about them, and he doesn't seem to be working very hard to rectify them."

"Hey, I know the kid's kinda shy and all, but—"

Seto raised a hand.

"Cripplingly so. And if he can't get past his shyness, he just won't make it here. There will be no advancement for him. You might think you're being noble, but Yugi just might be throwing this job away on his own. Do you want to stick your neck out for someone like that?"

"It's just the way he is. It ain't his fault. Ahh," he growled, "It _isn't_!"

"See? I can tell you're making real strides in what we discussed. The least you deserve is to have the chance to fight. Don't give that up."

Joseph rubbed at his forehead, then ran his fingers through his hair.

"I don't know. Don't feel right to me."

"All you have to do is to put forth your best work, and whatever happens in the end will be my decision, not yours. You're not doing anything to jeopardize anyone else's employment."

"Yeah… I guess."

"Don't over think it."

Joseph seemed to be struggling internally another moment, but eventually he nodded his head.

"Fine," he growled. "I'm in. I wanna keep my job."

"Good answer. You'll start on this project tomorrow. You're free to go back to work."

"'Kay," he said, but he sounded somewhat defeated.

"Oh, and Joseph? Don't speak to the other workers about this, including Yugi."

"Sure thing, Boss."

"Send him out while you're at it."

Joseph flashed a thumb's up as he headed through the doorway.


	59. Chapter 59

Yugi stepped out to the front with his hands in his pockets, but Seto could tell he was fidgeting.

"Yes, Sir?" he asked. "Joey… er, Joseph said you wanted to see me?"

He met Seto's gaze once, and then seemed in search of other things to focus on. Seto decided to test the waters on pushing Yugi's boundaries.

"I hired you on the precept that you could sew."

Yugi nodded, looking all the more nervous.

"I have not been… displeased by your efforts. However, I'm interested in seeing what you're really capable of."

"O-okay?"

"So far you've only been doing alterations. I want you to start sewing a garment from the beginning."

Yugi had seemed to relax a little at Seto's initial backwards compliment, but his nervous fidgeting returned.

"From the beginning? You mean, drafting the pattern and everything?"

Seto shook his head. "The pattern has already been drafted. But you'll need to cut out the material, paying attention to all the markings."

"What about… what about directions? I've worked with patterns at home before, but none of the patterns I've seen your tailors make come with directions."

"Most seasoned tailors should be able to piece the garment together without them."

Yugi seemed to struggle while he thought it over.

"You don't have to do this if you're not up to it," Seto offered.

Refusal to accept the assignment would be grounds to disqualify him from the challenge, and result in being let go by default. Joseph would keep his job. It wasn't the outcome Seto had in mind to craft, and letting Yugi believe that he had a choice in the matter felt like a lie.

While Seto wasn't thrilled with the display Yugi had made during the early morning, Joseph's actual capabilities seemed more stunted than Yugi's when it came to the sewing, so his usefulness at Kaiba's Coats was limited.

While Yugi pondered the options apparent to him, Seto spoke.

"Before you agree, there is a bit more information I need to give you."

Seto decided to tell Yugi the short version of the same story he'd given Joseph. He liked the motivation that the honesty brought to the table, the fire that it lit under his employees when he told them that if they didn't put their best foot forward, they'd be shown the door.

After Seto was done explaining the competition aspect as he had done for Joseph, Yugi stared at the floor, his brows furrowed.

When Yugi didn't respond, Seto asked, "Are you okay with this?"

Yugi nodded, looking somewhat numb.

"I have to be, don't I?" he said with a hint of what sounded to Seto like bitterness. "If I don't want to participate, will you just fire me outright?"

"I told you that this is a competition. Naturally, that means that you're competing against someone else. In this case that's Joseph, as I said. Neither of you seem terribly interested in this, so if you'd rather just rock-paper-scissors for it, I'll allow it."

"Really?" Yugi asked, sounding doubtful.

"I would _allow_ it. Of course, regardless of the winner, then I would likely let you both go and open up two machines in the process."

Yugi answered with a glare.

"You think I'm being irrational, don't you? Maybe a bit over-the-top?"

The glare continued.

"Listen, Yugi. If you and Wheeler don't have the guts to duke it out over your jobs, then I suspect neither of you needs them that badly. And furthermore, workers without a spine will never succeed in this business."

"Most bosses wouldn't pit two people against each other like this," Yugi bit out.

"Wouldn't they? You don't think employers all over this city do this sort of thing all the time? Silently watching their workers to see who's worthy of a raise, or a promotion, or even keeping the job? You should thank me for being transparent about it. At least when one of you does more poorly than the other, you'll see it coming, and you'll know if you truly did your best or not."

"It still doesn't seem right."

"I can't do anything about the way you choose to look at this. But I need an open machine, and this is the most effective way I can think to achieve it. Do you know, Yugi, what my father went through to protect this business?"

"I… don't."

"Of course you don't. But he built this place up from the ground. I didn't have to like him or care about what he did in order to admire his drive and his ruthlessness, and his _efficacy_. Not all his workers may have liked him either, but he turned a profit, satisfied his customers to raving reviews, and his employees kept their jobs. Willingly, I might add."

Yugi seemed to have little to say about this, but nodded his head.

"I don't expect you to like this, Yugi. But I also don't remember asking you. This is my decision to make, and I've made it. If you really don't want to participate, you can walk," he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder toward the door.

"No," he said, full of resolve. "I don't want Joey to get punished for my success, but I'm not letting you bully me into giving up my job. But what happens if we both exceed your expectations?"

"This isn't bullying, Yugi. This is business."

"I asked a question."

"Are you asking what will happen if this ends in some sort of draw? Yugi, this doesn't work that way. There are enough factors I'll be judging on that one of you is bound to best the other just enough."

"Enough for what? To determine who's more worth your money?"

"Yugi, while I admire the spine you're showing in this moment, am I really the one you choose to speak this way to?"

Yugi appeared to bite his tongue in a literal sense.

"Go back inside before you say something you might regret."

"I really don't believe this is fair," he said, looking Seto squarely in the eyes.

"I need to free a seat, one way or another. I could have chosen to simply let go of one of you four without giving you any choice or free will in the matter. You truly believe I'm being unfair?"

"Rather than firing anyone, can't you give us more training instead?"

Seto leaned back against the counter top.

"That isn't an option."

"Why not? You can't see that we're trying?"

"I can. But there's far more going on than you can see right now."

"Such as?"

"I am in no way obligated to give you that information. But I will say this. If you had put half the effort and conviction that you have in this conversation as you do in your interactions with my customers, you wouldn't be in this position. The decision would be between Wheeler and someone else."

"The other person would be my cousin, wouldn't it?"

"I can't exactly say who it might be. Your cousin performs exceptionally well, but he's rather distractable and… arrogant. But this is about you, and the point is that you would be evaluated very differently. _This_ was the response I was hoping to see earlier when I asked you to step up your game. I noticed that during this whole conversation you have had very high control over your speech."

"I get nervous around people I haven't met before," Yugi explained. "It's much harder to control around the customers."

"That's no excuse. I asked you to work on it. I am aware that there are exercises and materials you can use to mitigate it. Books, videos, recordings, even therapies. Have you made use of any of those resources?"

"I've tried a few. I'm not ignoring this, but fixing it is not an instantaneous thing."

"Then you've brought us back around to the original discussion. This is why you've made my list. I don't have the patience to wait around for your level of comfort around the customers to gradually improve when I need a free seat. This is a huge percentage of your job tasks, and I hired you believing that customer interactions would not be a problem for you."

"And there isn't anything I can work out? You refuse to make an allowance for part time?"

Seto hadn't considered that option before. If _he_ were allowed by Dartz to be affiliated with the business on a part-time basis, it would free up more of his time. Yugi would know he was trading off days with Seto through his cousin anyway, were he to be the one let go, so there was no reason to worry about how he might feel about Seto being his replacement, although it wasn't something he was willing to disclose until necessary.

"I'll consider the option, but in the end it isn't up to you." Seto checked the time on his cell phone. "The day's just about up. Unless you plan on staying late, you can go pack up."

Yugi turned to go.

"Yugi," Seto said just as Yugi put a hand to the door. "Mokuba tells me you can be quite fierce in your games. This may not be the kind of game you're used to, but it's certainly a competition. I'd like to see that fire come out in your work. I believe you have it in you."

Yugi nodded, a bright steel glint in his eyes.

"While I don't want you to accept help from the other tailors, I'll get Daimon to make up a set of basic instructions for you. However, any time Daimon spends on the instructions will be added to your total. Finish your workload for the day. You'll start right away tomorrow morning, and I'll have Daimon get the instructions for you before then."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

A/N: The previous post officially put the word count for this story over one hundred thousand words, and that I think is cool.

Additionally, I can't help but think of the duel between Yugi and Joey in Duelist Kingdom, when the two best friends had to be pitted against one another.


	60. Chapter 60

A/N: First off, I'm sorry for the delay. Second, I'm not sure if I should apologize for this chapter being extra long, but I hope it's not too dull so I feel like an apology is warranted. But this section is necessary. I managed to cut down this whole scene into two chapters instead of three, though! Woo.

I'll try really hard to get an update in both this Sunday and the following Wednesday. After that, you might not hear from me for a couple of short weeks. We'll see. Anyway, thank you all so much for following and sticking this story out!

Enjoy,

~omgagr

* * *

When Seto was able to clear out the shop for the day, he counted down the cash register. Then he flipped through his textbook, scanning over the next chapter, until from the edge of his perception of the glass door he noticed a looming shape block the outside light. A knock followed, and Seto glanced at the time. Five-thirty, not a minute later.

He rose, unlocked the door, and gestured for the muscular man to come inside.

The man threw a glance over his shoulder, where Seto noticed Dartz stood. Then he came in, appeared to scope out the interior, and nodded to Dartz.

Dartz entered and shook Seto's hand.

"Where may we sit so that we may begin?" Dartz asked, looking around the front of the shop.

There were seats lining the front wall serving as the "waiting area", and one seat behind the counter. Nowhere to truly conduct business.

"In the back," Seto relented.

He led the way, and when they entered the small room he pulled an armless, swiveling office chair from one machine and set it up on the opposite side of another desk, so the two seats faced each other with a surface in between.

"Your assistant can sit anywhere he likes, but I will ask that he not touch anything at the stations." Not that he cared, but the tailors would.

"Raphael is content to stand," Dartz answered for the man, who was, in fact, standing between the businessmen and the doorway, as if keeping watch.

Seto followed Dartz to the desk, taking the empty seat.

Dartz opened the briefcase he carried and placed a manilla envelope on the desk. He slid a piece of paper from it in Seto's direction.

Seto took a moment to scan the page only to find that it was the same contract draft he'd read before, and he frowned.

"You are not content with the contract?" Dartz began, gesturing to the paper in Seto's hand. "My assistant mentioned you had a comment, but I preferred to hear from you directly."

Seto laid the paper back in its folder, but splayed it open on the desk, visible by both.

"Why do you want me as an employee?" Seto pointed to the folder on the desk. "If I were to sign this as-is, I would contract a year of my life to you. What do you gain by me doing so?"

"Mister Kaiba. We have already discussed the idea of your… current reputation."

"What about it?"

"Do you know how the people of Domino view you right now, Mister Kaiba?"

Seto waved a hand at the walls around them.

"I grew up in this shop, and it's been here for thirty years. It's how people in this city know my name."

"Not right now it isn't. People in Domino know you as the young entrepreneur who seduces his younger sibling's teachers into giving him good grades in exchange for sex."

"But that's bull. One glance at his report card could tell you that."

"It doesn't matter. You may know the truth. I may even believe you. But I see potential in this shop, and the story that's flying around will hurt both of us if I involve myself with your name. So let's fix that."

"And me working under your for twelve months is going to fix that?"

"It will show the public that you are still dedicated to serving Domino city and the surrounding areas, but are humble enough to step down from leading because you're clearly unfit."

"I am not _unfit._ " Seto exclaimed, his voice rising. He didn't see himself as humble either, but saw no point in disputing the idea.

"You may know the truth," Dartz repeated. "I may even believe you. But the public currently does not. The best thing you can do is to step down. However, you leaving entirely will pose problems for me. How loyal are your employees?"

"As loyal as I need them to be."

"Do you think they'll continue working for the business if you are no longer a part of it?"

"Most of them need their jobs, no matter who is signing the paychecks."

"Then what would stop them from finding someone else to do so? Someone other than you or I?"

"Some of them probably will. It depends on how the shop is managed, and what the competition is willing to offer."

"Then how much more-so your clients? Will their trust waver once they learn that there is only one Kaiba left in Kaiba's Coats? How much better could it be if they find out that _both_ of Gozaburo Kaiba's eldest sons have chosen to pick up his trade for the good of serving the city?"

"I see your strategy. However, I have already invested too much of my personal time in this business. I was already working on my own goals when my father died more than a year ago. I cannot contract away another year of my life."

"I understand that you have obligations. However, I cannot conduct business with no workers and no customers, and I believe that keeping you in the shop will turn the balance for me. I am not able budge on the condition that you work for this shop in order for me to consider the deal."

"I won't dispute your theory, but I cannot devote that much time into a shop I have never loved. I have already been involved with it for too long. A year is impossible for me to agree to."

"My. Have we reached an impasse already?" Dartz clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"I am not saying that exactly."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Now that we each understand the other is unwilling to bend, are you willing to reconsider the time frame during which you require me to be under your employ?"

"I… may be willing to do so."

"If that's the case, then we can move on. I'd like to discuss bigger details than this schedule at the moment before squabbling over time."

"Such as?"

"What do you have in mind for me to do as an employee? I refuse to degrade myself in order to make this deal. I am not an errand boy, I am not a housekeeper, and I am not a tailor. I am a businessman, but you seem quite bent on taking that away from me."

"I would never dream of degrading you in order to turn a profit, Mister Kaiba. In fact, I don't find the concept I have in mind for you degrading at all. Many may see tailoring as 'servant's work', but I believe it to be a renowned skill set."

"So you do expect me to sew alongside the rest of them?"

"Why is this such a concern of yours, Mister Kaiba?"

Seto stared evenly at the man before him.

"As I said, I am not a tailor. My brother has begun to master this 'renowned skill set'. I have not."

"You do no know how to sew?"

"I understand the concepts, but I have very little practical experience. Not enough to be a worthwhile employee at this juncture."

"I see. Well then, Mister Kaiba, for the sake of this deal, you would have a bit of learning to do."

Seto blinked. Narrowed his eyes. While he may have been forced to try out a machine once, many years ago, he had never sewn a garment in his life.

Then again, he realized, neither had Atem before he started. But he became the star of the new employees in an extremely accelerated matter of time. If Atem could learn to do it, what was stopping Seto from achieving the same, or better?

"You're still interested?" Seto asked, surprised.

"I certainly am. Do you believe that I am trying to strike this deal without realizing what I'm walking into? No. I am familiar with your role in this establishment, and it does not concern me to introduce you to something else."

"Aside from the fact that my brother is currently on medical leave due to an injury, all the stations in this room are full. I would have nowhere to work once Noa returns. How do you intend to work around that?" While Seto already had his own plan in place, he wanted to see what Dartz had come up with.

"You yourself lamented the lack of an office space in this building. What would you say to a bit of remodeling?"

"I would say that the place needs it, but you can't shut this business down that long."

"That may be true for now. But if business picks up, we will need more space. Have you considered how this will work in the mean time?"

"I have," he said. "I told my brother when I hired my four new employees that if any of them didn't work out I would let them go. In the case that one machine must be freed up for myself, or if I choose not to sign this contract and decide to look for another tailor with more credentials, I have two employees in mind who, together, dangle on the lowest rung."

"And you intend to choose between them somehow?"

"In my own way. I have already put the plan in motion, and they will begin an evaluation tomorrow."

"A chance for your tailors each to prove his worth?"

"I plan to give them each an equal task, and the one to complete it in the worst timing, or with the worst craftsmanship, will have to be let go."

"A fair strategy. I have used similar myself. If you make them all aware of this at the beginning, it will be entirely fair and performance based."

"I already have."

"Then we will have no struggles working you into the fold. Excellent. Have you any other concerns or requirements?"

Dartz removed a small notebook and an elegant pen from a coat pocket. He flipped it open and prepared to begin writing.

"I want it in the contract that the name of this tailoring shop will stay the same."

"Certainly," he nodded while scribbling it down.

"Additionally, you will keep the entire staff employed, aside from whomever I decide to let go before then. If any one of them loses credibility on his or her own, that may be a different story, but there is no one else currently working who is deserving of losing their job."

Dartz continued to write.

"I will keep that in mind. I would like to conduct an interview with the staff members myself, but I otherwise have no reason to deny this request."

"I'm not done."

Dartz smirked and waved his hand holding the pen. "Then by all means, continue."

"For the workers who remain, I want their positions guaranteed for at least six months. When KC fell into my lap, fifty percent of the employees quit, practically overnight. I apparently didn't have what they needed to remain in the shop at the time. I want you to _ensure_ me that you can keep the other three workers who have been serving KC for years willing to come back after I sell."

"Only three?"

"My brother will not abandon this place. He'll be here until the day he dies."

"So, you want me to give raises, right off the bat?"

"I want everyone who has been working for more than a year to receive a raise, _plus_ benefits."

"Healthcare, retirement packages and the like?"

"The works. They deserve it. For quite some time my father didn't even pay his workers, these _same_ workers, proper overtime pay, until I called him on it as a teenager. Yes, he paid them for their hours, but only at their normal rate, no matter how many hours they put in during a day or a week."

"What a shame he got away with it for so long. That isn't legal business practice."

"That's why I called him on it."

"I see. You were a by-the-books businessman before you were an adult, even. I appreciate that."

"You're probably aware that, unlike most trades, tailors are not unionized."

"I am."

"Additionally, most top wages for seasoned tailors cap at twenty-four dollars an hour, which is right around what some of them here are making."

"I am aware of this as well. I have done my research, Mister Kaiba."

"For the effort they put in and the expertise and care their job requires, I feel that they're worth more than that."

"We will see when we look at the books, but I can see where you're coming from."

"Then there's the fact that tailors only tend to receive benefits when they work for large companies. But in those environments, they also tend to be more overworked due to pressure from sales teams, burn out faster and are prone to declining health earlier than they would likely have otherwise."

"A challenging job market indeed."

"This is part of why these workers haven't found other jobs. They choose to remain somewhere without a commissioned sales team, at the personal expense of having to pay for their own health care."

"Providing benefits isn't cheap. A small shop like this isn't required to offer them, either."

"I want my company's reputation to serve its workers as well as its customers. Running well, we should make enough to afford to do this for them. That is, if the workers who keep these doors open are incentivized to stay."

"I see you've thought this through. I admit, I would not have been able to build the empire I have without loyal subjects," Dartz said as though he thought himself royalty. "I take care of my employees, so long as they continue to provide satisfactory services. I will agree to begin providing benefits."

"I don't believe I included the newer recruits. I am aware that many businesses have a waiting period before allowing a worker to gain benefits. Two of them have a good deal of promise. The other two, I'm not positive about."

"How long have they been working?"

"They were all hired on the same day, a few months ago."

"You do realize that if I put the limitation on, say, six months after hire, you will be limiting yourself?"

"I'm not worried about myself. My family is all on the same insurance policy."

"I have a feeling that you have more demands."

"That depends. _If_ I agree to this deal, when would it take place?"

"I can have all of this drawn up in a new contract tomorrow and have it delivered to my legal team for review. Usually this would take a few weeks if you were preparing to sell to any other buyer."

"But because you are who you are, I'm confident you have your own men ready and waiting for just such a task, don't you?"

"That is the case. I believe I can have the contract delivered for you to sign by this time next week. Getting the paperwork drawn up on your end depends on you, however."

Seto thought it over a moment.

"I'll have to put your name on the rental contract for the space in the strip mall, the business insurance, the bank accounts, the telephone account, the vendor accounts… and anything else that I had to sign a handful of months ago. My father kept very clear records, and I'll dig them out when I get home. As far as the length of that process, I can see it taking at least a few weeks. The insurance company specifically had a lengthy delay, although they were processing my father's death certificate."

"Then I see no reason to delay. The sooner we can get these paperwork details handled, the sooner you can get back to your life. Together, we should be able to have you out of the business leadership in under two months."

Seto failed to appreciate the wording Dartz chose, and the way he called Seto _unfit_ still rang in his ears, but the prospect of getting on with his life and leaving his father's dusty shop behind lifted his spirits.


	61. Chapter 61

A/N: I hope the last chapter didn't bore you all to death, and that this one won't either! I'm planning to update on Wednesday and next Sunday as well, and things will get less business-y and pick up a bit from there. Thanks for your patience! While I realize it isn't the most action- or drama-heavy set of scenes, I felt like this section was necessary to see Seto working through and navigating the business end of things and showing what he's willing to bend for, and what he isn't. I hope that you can find some appreciation for that, at least.

Thank you for reading!

~omgagr

* * *

"Now that we've nailed down my key concerns, I'm content to begin adjusting the time frame for my working under you. I will agree to stay with Kaiba's Coat's for three months."

"Thee months?" Dartz scoffed. "That's hardly a blink. You won't learn enough to be of much value in that time, for your reputation, or mine. I cannot accept. I could possibly relent, if I must, to ten months."

Seto laughed. "I might as well agree to a year. Four months."

"You are trying to settle on the extreme, I see."

"So are you."

"Eight months."

Seto narrowed his eyes, a steel glint shining in cerulean oceans.

"Six. No more. I cannot afford the time."

Six months would be encroaching on his graduation date. Or, rather, the end of his final semester, since he was finishing his degree a year and a half early. Graduation would come at the end of the year, and he wasn't positive he would bother attending. But in the meantime, he needed to concentrate on his final grade.

Dartz smirked, then shrugged as casually as a man as formal as he could manage.

"I would be willing to accept six months of—"

"Servitude?" Seto interrupted with a growl.

"—Willful employment," Dartz finished with narrowed eyes. "I believe, Mister Kaiba, that you will give this company your all until your final moment within these walls."

It was not a suggestion. Working for Dartz, if Seto signed the contract, would not be a walk in the park. But Seto never did anything worth doing without pouring his entire being into it. He had no fears of failing the expectation.

"You will be put on payroll with the rest of the remaining employees the first Monday after the sale is made official. Your starting wage, determined by your skill set with no experience of course, will be twelve dollars an hour. I hope you find this acceptable."

Seto couldn't complain. While the wage itself was fairly insulting, he couldn't very well argue that he was worth more. After all, he only paid Joseph and Yugi eleven.

"Fine," Seto agreed. "On the note of wages, we still need to discuss price. I am not officially agreeing to anything until I know what you feel this place is worth."

"Ah, the negotiations. I expect you to bring that up during this meeting."

"Then you have come prepared with an offer," Seto guessed.

"I have. My team of researchers has evaluated Kaiba's Coat's net worth."

Dartz scribbled something on his notepad. He passed the notebook to Seto.

Seto lifted it and examined the number. He let out a bark of laughter.

"Are you sure your researchers investigated properly? This must be a joke."

Dartz frowned. "You must understand that I am purchasing a complicated project."

Seto returned the frown.

"One-ninety?" Seto slapped the notebook onto the desk. "You are purchasing nothing if you have no satisfactory offer to make. It would be a shame if all this negotiation turned out to be just a waste of time."

Disappointment sank in, and Seto checked the time. They'd been discussing fairly unimportant details for over nearly an hour. Details that would, of course, be relevant and highly important when the time came, but not if the scenario never played out.

"You took pains to decide what your company is worth, I see."

"I wasn't interested in coming unprepared."

Seto returned the notepad without making his own offer. He felt that would reveal his cards too early, even if price negotiations usually were a back-and-forth endeavor.

Dartz held his frown, but crossed off the first offer and put another below it. He slid the notepad, face-up, back to Seto.

The result was more reasonable—just under Seto's calculated value, in fact, at two hundred and eighty thousand. It was already more than he had thought he could get by selling to anyone. But he did not forget what Roland had said, to not accept the first reasonable offer.

"Better," Seto conceded, but this time he took the pen and wrote his own offer, four hundred thousand. He passed the notebook back. Dartz would have to be mad, Seto reasoned, to come even close to four, but it was the only way to get him to up his ante.

Dartz had lost his frown, but Seto couldn't read the expression on his face. He countered again, crossing off Seto's number and writing his own. With the same hardened mask he passed the notebook once more.

Seto glanced at the number, then squinted his eyes and checked it again.

Five hundred fifty grand.

Dartz had taken Seto's offer and _raised_ it.

Seto steeled his own expression, hoping his double-take wasn't too much of a giveaway. But he wouldn't let the numbers fool him.

"Now I know you must be joking," Seto said. "If I had known you weren't planning to take this negotiation seriously—"

"On the contrary. I am entirely serious."

Seto eyed the man. Did he know something about the business that Seto didn't? Or was he just that eager to expand his own repertoire, and had money to burn?

"Tell me why you would offer this amount."

"You finally contributed to the negotiations, so I knew where you stood. If you'd have written five hundred, I may have countered with higher."

"But why, if you supposedly know what this shop is worth?"

"I do know what it is worth. But I am looking at what it will be worth when I have done all I can with it. You said it yourself, you do not have the capital to change this establishment the way I can. I agreed to your terms. This is the only way to make this shop the best it can be. If persuading you with a higher amount is the only way to get you to let it go, then I shall do what I must. Money is no object for me."

Seto almost asked why he wasn't just interested in investing, until he remembered the article. Dartz, for whatever reason, felt very strongly about the way it affected Seto's reputation. He would have accepted the four hundred grand he had requested, but another hundred and fifty thousand was too difficult to resist.

He could try to find another buyer, one that would not require him to learn to tailor. But he could not, he was certain, find one who would be capable and willing to offer such an amount. Dartz likely knew this, and had intended that as the point to keep Seto from finding someone else to sell to.

The extra one-fifty felt well worth the six months of his time that he was getting paid a wage for anyway.

"Fine, then. I accept your offer."

Dartz's mask finally cracked into a business-like grin. He pulled back the notebook and circled his own number several times with the pen, even underlining it once.

"Very well, Mister Kaiba," Dartz said, standing and holding out a hand.

Seto stood as well and shook the man's offered hand.

"I will have a new, official contract drawn up, with the points we have discussed, and our agreed-upon price. Once it has been reviewed by my legal team, I will have it delivered for you to provide your signature, while you acquire the necessary papers on your end."

The men stood and shook hands once again, and Seto led them to the front door.

When Dartz and Raphael left, Seto locked the door behind them and returned to the back room. He sat down and took notes of his demands, Dartz expectations, and the price Dartz had agreed to pay. He knew he wouldn't forget, but he wanted his own copy in writing anyway.

When he was done, he pulled out his phone and dialed Roland again.

"How busy are you these days?" Seto asked when the man picked up.

"Oh, it varies. Dartz keeps me on a tight leash, and he isn't my only client, but I still find some spare time."

Seto recalled meeting him at The Spade, and figured it must be the case.

"If you have an open slot in about six months, I might need someone else to handle my finances, and it would seem I have the means to afford to delegate that task to someone experienced in the field."

"Negotiations went well, then, I presume?"

"He did low-ball me at first, but I figured being cheap wasn't his style so I pushed for more. He came closer, but I took your advice."

"Good. You didn't accept the second offer either, then?"

"I pushed until my counter-offer was way over my value."

"He topped even that, didn't he?"

"You must know how he works."

"As you said, it isn't his style to be cheap. If you don't mind me asking, what was the final agreement?"

"Over half a million."

The line was quiet a moment.

"Did you hear me?" Seto questioned.

"I—I heard you. I'm just impressed. I suppose, when your father first became successful, he brought in enough to pay off that house you live in. Over time, it has been a very valuable business. But still, I never expected him to break half a million. He went over?"

"Five hundred fifty thousand."

Roland whistled. "Outstanding. That should get your feet off the ground."

"It will get me started," Seto agreed.

"Started? How large-scale of an operation do you have in mind?"

Seto smirked, even though he knew Roland couldn't see it.

"You'll know when you read about me in Forbes. This is just pocket change on the way there."

Seto _could_ heard Roland's grin.

"If anyone can do it, it's you. Be sure to let me know when you're in need of my services for your next endeavor."

"I will."

"Until then, I wish you the best, and congratulations."

"Thank you."

Seto hung up and looked around at the old machines, dusty thread cones, and rack of half-completed projects. In the beginning, it hadn't felt like it was worth much. Now he was beginning to see the magic Noa had asked him to believe in.

He never thought this dusty old shop could become the gateway to his childhood dreams. Maybe that cursed fake-news article paid for by the malicious woman set out to destroy his life just might have been the best thing to happen to him yet.


	62. Chapter 62

Author's Notes:

My life just got permanently derailed. Consistent and mundane things like this story, and the trivial needs of toddlers in their blanket forts, are my lifelines right now. *Sigh* This story brings together two things I love, writing and sewing, almost purely because of my mother's deeply passionate encouragement, belief in me, and unending desire to see me succeed. Even if this is fanfiction and not always very good anyway, I am doing this for her-this and so much more. She will be missed. Once I process it all, that is.

Many writers put themselves into the characters they write, but I am not Seto by any means. I am, in fact, Noa in this story in more than one way. Bleeding fingers and bleeding heart. Funny, I even hurt my foot recently because of my brother and now limp to get around. It's not his fault, but he did really want me to try out his one-wheeled motorized skateboard…

I'm rambling, but thank you, everyone who has stuck by me to help me see this through. Without you this story falls on deaf ears and its purpose is defeated. As a reward, this begins a turning point where things start to get real. Done with business negotiations. We're not wrapping up, but we're getting somewhere.

You have my sincere gratitude for pursuing this story. I will plan to update again over the weekend.

~ohmygodagiantrock

* * *

Seto knew better than to open his mouth about the deal he'd discussed with Dartz—even to Mokuba—while Noa was home. His twin would never be ready to hear the news, but Seto wasn't interested in springing it on him before he had all the details in place.

Noa was on the sofa when Seto came in at half past seven. He chatted away amicably on his cell phone, but didn't miss the opportunity to try to demand answers from Seto with his eyes.

Seto ignored him and moved on. He found Mokuba in the kitchen trying his level best to study while Noa inconsiderately raised and lowered his volume. Mokuba didn't miss a chance to glance pointedly at the clock and then at Seto as he approached.

"I know, I know," Seto said, but made no attempt to explain.

"You weren't out with _her_ again, were you?" Mokuba scowled.

"I wouldn't make that mistake twice," he assured.

"I was hoping you would be home sooner. I thought maybe you could get him to keep quiet, or go to his room."

"If you haven't noticed, he's somewhat taken over the living room lately. Something to do with not having to walk back and forth, I suppose. Why don't you just study in your room?" Seto asked, picking up one of the textbooks Mokuba wasn't using and idly paging through it.

"I don't have enough room to spread out. My desk is too small."

"By 'too small', I think you might mean too _cluttered_."

"Whatever. I didn't have time to clean my room. I had to do homework. I'm trying to stay on top of my grades, like you said I had to."

"Tell you what," Seto said, picking up another textbook. "You can use my room. I'd rather not interrupt His Majesty. Personally, I don't really want to talk to him."

"But you have to eventually."

"Whatever. But in the meantime, just use my desk."

"Are you sure?"

Seto picked up a notebook and a folder.

"I'll help you carry these."

"But I don't want to mess up any of your projects."

"Then don't."

Mokuba clicked his tongue, and swiped an elbow toward Seto's side. But Seto dodged, then countered by lunging in and wrapping both his arms—textbooks, folders and all—around Mokuba's body. He squeezed Mokuba's arms tight against him so he couldn't move to feign another attack.

"Hey!" Mokuba complained, a hint of laughter playing into his voice.

"You started it," Seto countered.

But as he squeezed, the contact melted from teasing sparring to an affectionate hug, which Mokuba allowed to be forced on him. With his elbows bent and his arms folded in under Seto's, Mokuba couldn't hug back, but he pressed himself against Seto's chest.

"Welcome home, big brother," he said through a bright grin. "Even though you're atrociously late." He managed to wiggle a finger loose and used it to poke Seto in the ribs until he let go.

"Thank you," Seto said, ruffling the boy's hair with one half-free hand.

Mokuba began packing up the rest of his schoolwork and crammed it into his backpack. The brothers carried the load out of the kitchen, discussing dinner plans while they walked up the stairs.

Noa's conversation, which was too difficult to follow hearing just one side, filled the whole living space with a nauseating flirtatious aura. Seto allowed himself a glance in the direction of the living room and felt his muscles coil. Comparing the time spent with Mokuba against Noa, the difference was black and white.

"Any idea who he's talking to?" Mokuba asked at the top of the stairs.

"I have no clue. I don't care, either."

"I bet it's a girl."

"I still don't care. Maybe if he's seeing someone he'll have less time to bother me so much."

"Maybe," Mokuba agreed, but he silently leaned against the balcony hanging over the living room, watching Noa laugh about something the brothers couldn't hear.

Seto placed the books in his arms on the desktop beside his computer. The monitor was flat-screened and didn't take up much space, but he pushed it back anyway. The keyboard slid out of a tray beneath the desktop, so that took up no extra space.

The desk wasn't exactly cluttered—especially not like Mokuba's, which was filled with CapMon figurines and action figures, and plenty of things that had no place on a writing desk—but Seto did have a few projects sitting out, like Mokuba had recalled.

"Hey," Seto called, drawing Mokuba into the room.

"Yeah?"

"Speaking of girls, have you asked out Serenity yet?"

Mokuba let out a long puff of air.

Seto frowned. "Is that a no?"

"I haven't. I still want to."

"Sooner or later you'll just have to dive in and ask her. You can't drag it out too long. What's the point of waiting?"

"The point of waiting is that I'll have more time to keep imagining she might like me back, which I'll have to stop doing as soon as she turns me down."

"That's just your nerves talking. She won't turn you down. Ask her."

Mokuba nodded resolutely. "I will."

Most of the projects on Seto's desk were raw circuitry, experiments he was in the middle of running in his sparse spare time. He picked up the larger pieces and moved them onto another shelf on the desk, out of Mokuba's way.

"Ask her before the tournament," he said.

"Why?"

"Because that way you know she's interested in you for more than just your new-found money and fame."

Mokuba laughed. "If I even win, all the money is going towards college."

"She won't know that. You'll still look rich in her eyes. So ask her first."

Mokuba crossed his arms, backpack still slung on his shoulder. "You know she's not that vain, right?"

"I could guess as much, but you seem like you need a time line."

He shrugged, losing his defensive bravado. "I guess."

Seto's Magic & Wizards deck was sitting beside the monitor, with a few other cards in organized stacks. He placed them all together and tucked them into their tin in a desk drawer.

"That should be enough room for you, don't you think?"

Mokuba nodded, but he only inched close enough to place a hand on the back of the office chair.

"That's not the only problem, is it?" Seto asked.

Mokuba shook his head. "She just seems too busy for me lately. We're not talking as much."

"All the better to ask her sooner. Keep yourself on her radar."

Mokuba shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again.

"It almost feels like something else has her attention lately. Some _one_ else."

"Don't think about it like that. You'll psych yourself out. She's probably just busy, with the end of the school year coming up."

"Yeah, maybe."

"If you get done with your homework quickly enough you can spend the rest of the evening on the phone with her."

"What about dinner?"

"I'll make something. I'll even let you eat in your room, if you promise to use a napkin properly and clean up after yourself."

Mokuba grinned. "You're so much cooler than Father, you know that?" he said with ease.

Seto offered a weak smile, glad Noa wasn't in earshot of a comment like that. Of course Seto was more lax than his father at parenting; he _wasn't_ a parent, and never had been. And yet, at the same time maybe he had been all along, because Gozaburo certainly wasn't a parent to Mokuba. He had been little more than an enforcer of rules, Seto thought. Rules that he enjoyed bending.

"Fine. I'll ask her next week," Mokuba finally agreed.

Seto's thin smile grew into a proud smirk, and he squeezed the boy's shoulder.

"You'll do great," he said, meaning it in more than one way at once. Seto left his room for the kitchen to prepare dinner.


	63. Chapter 63

Although the day quickly became too busy for Seto to be still, he tried his best to observe the work as Yugi and Joseph took up two of the large drafting tables cutting their material. Yugi's garment was burnt orange while Joseph's was a mint green.

Joseph shot ahead from the beginning, ignoring his instructions and cutting the fabric somewhat recklessly, while Yugi was still busy transferring the markings from his pattern and re-reading his list of Daimon's instructions.

Seto spent the majority of his time finalizing bills and making transactions, so by the time he had come back from lunch Yugi and Joseph were on two separate paths. While Yugi had been slow to get started, Joseph had apparently made a few drastic mistakes and had had to take most of the garment apart.

"What happened here?" Seto asked, standing behind Joseph with his arms crossed.

"Ah… well, see, I got the collar on, but it didn't work right when I tried to overlap the front. Then I realized I didn't match my marks on the collar. Plus, when I put the sleeves on, the… what'd Viv call it? The sleeve roll? Well it didn't look right. So I'm tryin' to start over on the sleeve cap. Still don't think it's gathering right."

Seto agreed, but he didn't voice it.

"Don't forget that the clock is ticking," he warned, and moved on to watch over Yugi's shoulder.

Yugi's garment appeared more put together, but he was still at a fairly basic point. He had his outer garment partially assembled, and his lining as well, but he was crawling along at such a careful pace that Seto wondered how long before Joseph recklessly caught up to him again.

"I want you both to be finished with these coats by the end of the day. These are not suits, and only six hours of work were budgeted for each of them."

"Yeesh, six hours?" Joseph repeated.

"Yes, six."

"I'll do my best, Sir," Yugi said.

"Yeah, alright. I'll try."

Seto opted to leave the workers alone and took advantage of the quiet afternoon lull. He ventured out front and pulled out his phone, redialing the number for the fake reporter, Espa. Again, the call went straight to voice mail, but this time Seto left a scathing message.

"Listen, 'Espa'. I'm done playing games. You can forget about re-writing the article. I don't need any more fuel thrown onto this fire. I expect you to break Miss Valentine's contract and have it taken down _by tonight_ , or you'll be hearing from my lawyer at nine tomorrow morning, sharp. If that's what has to happen, it won't just be the article I'll fight to have taken down, it'll be your whole site."

He ended the call.

Seto guessed he could figure out how to take the site down himself, but not necessarily by the time line he needed. He searched his contacts and dialed again.

"You've reached the law offices of Johnson," came a man's deep voice.

"Johnson? My name is Kaiba. You've worked with my family within the last year dealing with my deceased father's will."

"Kaiba?" the man repeated. "Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?"

"I have a… well, a minor annoyance. It may not even be your area of expertise. But if you could even recommend me to someone, who could assist me, you'll have made this call worth the time."

The man laughed, but the sound was almost like an indignant snort.

"I remember your father having the same attitude while he created his will," the man said. "Very well. What is this annoyance you wish to have dealt with?"

"Slander. I want a website printing lies about my company taken down and the owner pressed with legal charges."

"So you wish to sue? It isn't my main department, but I have taken a good many cases. Can you give me the information on the business?"

"It seems to be a one-man job." Seto said, then gave the name he had dug up of the man who went by 'Espa', and the domain of his blog.

"Very well," the man said again, pausing while he wrote the details down. "Have you already had contact with this man?"

"Not in person, but I found his phone number and called him, threatening to sue. We discussed the situation for a few moments, but when it became too much for him to handle he hung up on me. Now I believe he may be blocking my number."

"You haven't been able to reach him since?"

"All my calls go to his voice mail, and there have been no attempts to reach me."

"I see. I can begin by writing a letter."

"Unless you have a way to hand-deliver this letter by tomorrow morning, I would prefer a faster method. The longer this issue lingers, the more damage it can do to me."

"Then I will draft the letter and send it, but I will give the man a phone call to inform him of the actions you're taking."

"Very well," it was Seto's turn to say.

"You are in good hands, Mister Kaiba. If all goes well you won't even need to settle this issue by suing."

"I appreciate that."

"I will be in touch after I contact him tomorrow. I bid you good day, sir."

Seto agreed and ended the call.

While he did feel a weight lift off his shoulders, he refused to feel satisfied until the site was gone. Hopefully Mai would get the point once she realized that Seto could destroy one blogger, that he could do the same to any others she hired.

But a call from Mokuba a moment later did enough to set him back on edge. He glanced at the time before answering. It was barely two, and he couldn't have been out of school already. In fact, if Seto remembered right, he would have been in the middle of a class period.

Seto imagined his brother hiding away in a quiet hallway or in the bathroom dialing the cell phone that school policy forbade him from removing from his locker during school hours.

"Nope," Mokuba said in a choked voice before even allowing Seto to greet him. "I can't do this."

"Can't do what, Mokuba? What's wrong?"

"I just can't. You have to pick me up."

"What is it? Are you sick?"

"I'm about to be," he muttered. "They found the website, Seto. It's like my whole school saw it."

Seto felt his own stomach plummet.


	64. Chapter 64

"Take a deep breath, Mokuba. It's going to be alright. I'm taking care of it right now. I just got off the phone with a lawyer. Do you remember Mister Johnson, who helped us with Father's—"

"It doesn't matter, Seto! They already saw it!" Mokuba shouted. "Everyone knows! And I can't even say it's not true, because you said that's you in the picture!"

"Mokuba, calm down. So what if they know? I told you how to handle this."

"They don't care if I'm _handling_ this! They're merciless! The name calling, I can ignore. Even though it's not just at me, but our whole family is being called manipulative womanizers. But the jokes they're making! Oh, and in _gym class_? I felt like I barely got out of there alive. You wouldn't be able to imagine all the gestures the other kids were making with their hands at me every time the bitch turned her back. If you were there, you would have called it obscene."

"Mokuba, stop this," Seto hissed. "First off, I will not accept that kind of language."

"But it's true!"

"I don't care! You are not allowed to speak that way about your superiors, especially at school. Do you want to get written up on top of all the teasing? Find a less crude way to utilize your vocabulary. You're better than that."

"This isn't teasing, Seto. This is bullying. And it's _her_ fault. So if I want to call her what she is, I will."

"I am sorry this is happening to you, but you will not continue to use crude language at school unless you want me to end this call."

Mokuba was quiet a moment, but Seto could tell he was seething. He could hear the heavy breathing over the phone as Mokuba's temper nearly got the better of him.

"No, you know what? It's not just her. This whole _crap_ -storm is your fault too."

This time Seto fell silent. Mokuba wasn't wrong.

"There, is that better? I didn't say 'shit'."

"Mokuba, _enough_. I know you're mad at me. Your point is fair, this is partly my fault. But enough of the cussing, and enough of the yelling. Have you talked to the administrator? The one I talked to when this was all starting?"

"She's not here today," Mokuba spat.

"What about the principal?"

"No. I didn't talk to him."

"So, what are you doing now? Skipping class to make a phone call that you're not allowed to make?"

"I'm not skipping class. I was excused."

"Why?"

"Because… my teacher sent me to the office. So I stopped at my locker on the way."

Seto sighed. He saw through the glass storefront that a middle-aged couple had pulled up and were walking toward the shop. He left the front desk and cracked the door to the back room, and with his hand over the mouthpiece of his phone he spoke to no one in particular.

"I'm going outside briefly, but there are customers on their way. Assist them."

He didn't wait for a response before leaving, walking briskly past the couple just as they entered. He paused only to hold the door open for the woman to enter.

"Seto?" Mokuba asked, but his tone was still rather bitter.

" _Why_ were you sent to the office?" Seto asked when he was outside, the door closing behind him.

"Because I may have told one of the kids laughing and sticking his finger into his palm rolled up like a tube to piss off. A few times. He wouldn't stop."

Seto pulled out a chair for himself and sat at one of the cafe tables, further from the entrance to Kaiba's Coats.

"You're really on a roll with this profanity thing, aren't you?"

"Seto, I can't take it! He was literally sticking his finger into his hand. You know, emulating se—"

"I understand what it emulates," Seto interrupted.

"I usually just keep my head down or my nose in a book but how am I supposed to keep my cool when that crap is going on around me everywhere, all day long? Even my friends are ribbing me about it. You should see what they did to my locker."

"Listen, Mokuba. I'm not taking you out of school early today."

"But, Seto!"

"I said _listen_. By the time I get there, your classes will be nearly out anyway. You just started eighth period, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'll head over, and you go to the office. The longer you put it off, the more likely you'll be to get in extra trouble anyway. But when you get there, talk to the principal. He knows who you are. Tell him what happened—the concise version—and then let him know that you'd like to stay there until I arrive."

"Then what?"

"I'll come in and talk to him myself, with you, and then you can get your things from your classroom and your locker and we'll go home."

"But what's he going to be able to do? The whole school is acting out. He can't punish them all, and even if he could it won't make it all stop."

"I know. But we'll figure something out. The sooner we start the sooner this _will_ dissipate."

"I'd say it might be time for me to switch schools, but anywhere else I go will end up giving me the same problem, so long as it's in a city that has internet."

"Mokuba, you are not going to run from this. We're going to fight it."

"I don't want to fight it! I just want it all to go away!"

"It doesn't work that way. Trust me, we'll get through this. Now, hang up the phone and get to the office. You've wasted enough time already."

Mokuba groaned.

"Fine. But you better be here soon."

Seto didn't care for the bossy attitude, but he didn't comment as he knew his part in the situation.

"I will be," he said.

Mokuba hung up without saying goodbye.

Seto dropped his phone on the table, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. His headache was back. But he made himself ignore the pain and open his eyes again. Without picking up his phone he opened his browser with his thumb and tapped the search bar.

He typed simply "Kaiba teacher" into the search bar and reluctantly pressed the search button. He doubted he would find any results with such simple phrasing, and would keep refining it until he discovered one of the numerous links to Espa's blog, just to see how easy it was to find.

To his dismay, multiple links appeared at the top of the list, a few of which had titles such as "Kaiba's Coats Heir In Bed With Sibling's Teacher", and "Local Tailor Kaiba and High School Teacher Caught Together Half-Naked", all of which had misleading and extremely damaging implications.

Most of all, Seto hated that the titles kept throwing his name in the mix together with words like 'naked' and 'high school'. Before a reader could actually gain the full meaning of the title, even if it was technically a way to phrase the truth, the combination alone brought ideas to mind that, if Seto had been guilty of them, would put him behind bars.

The _last_ thing he needed was his city thinking of him as that kind of man while he was trying to make a name for himself.

Seto scrolled down, unsettled by how impossibly easy the links were to find, and how many of them existed. Then he looked closer at the URLs. Not all of them—not many of them, in fact—even linked to Espa's site. He took a chance and tapped one of the links.

It was a fresh article. If it was written by Espa it was at least under a different name, on a different blog. He backed out and clicked another link. Another new slanderous article, but with more of the grainy photographs from the night.

Back out, another click. New article. More photographs.

Seto slammed his fist on the table with a growl.

They couldn't all be Espa. Mai had to have sold the story to bloggers all over the internet, and everyone had their own take on it. Espa wasn't the one he needed to take action against, it was Mai. But what would she do in retaliation? Did he dare throw fuel on that fire?


	65. Chapter 65

A/N: I think my life just slowed down for a moment, so here's an update. It's an extra long one for the wait.

*Sigh* My mother passed away from cancer at the end of September. I had to travel between three different states for various reasons, not all related to family, through the month of October. In November I'm home and settling, and to keep busy I participated in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) for the third year. I won, finishing a few days early, which gave me time to put this out.

I love writing. It makes everything okay. Thank you all so much for your patience, time, attention, feedback, and support. You guys rock.

* * *

Seto was finally able to break away from the cafe table by shutting his phone off entirely. He had considered calling the lawyer again to send him after Mai instead of the blogger, and even considered calling Mai directly. But he needed a few moments to clear his head and plan his moves.

He returned to the shop. Inside, Rebecca was helping the couple who had come in earlier pick out silk for the gentleman's tie from the samples in the book. She glanced up when Seto entered, but quickly averted her eyes.

If it had been Yugi, Seto would have understood. The young man never had gotten the hang of keeping prolonged eye contact with his employer. But since when had Rebecca become nervous around him?

No, he realized, she wasn't nervous. After she looked away, her motions became more punctuated, as if she were suddenly angry. But Seto couldn't pinpoint why, nor did he care—only that her mood did not effect her ability to be polite to the clients.

He passed by and stepped into the back room. Instantly, Atem was on him with a yellow sticky note in his hand.

"Sir, an irate customer called about their estimate, he would like you to call him back this afternoon."

"I can't, I'm leaving."

"He was very specific about needing this issue resolved as soon as possible. His order is for an event, and if he plans to cancel his order with us he'll need time to find another tailor."

"How much of that is our problem?" Seto asked, gathering his belongings into his briefcase.

"I suppose… not much."

"Right. As long as we used our normal pricing system, it's not. He'll just have to be satisfied with a call in the morning. I have to go pick up my brother."

"Noa?" Atem asked.

"Mokuba. He's at school."

"Is everything alright? I hope he's not sick."

"He's fine. Just needs a ride home. Leave that note on the board under the phone. Is the customer's name and phone number on it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And his order number?"

"Ah… no."

"Then find it and write it down. If he calls back tell him I'll be in touch when I can."

"He won't like that."

"And? He apparently doesn't like our prices, either. At this point he's going to find anything he can to be unhappy about. Deal with him quickly, and get off the phone. People like that have tendency to linger and ramble, but you're not the customer service department. Feel free to let him understand that."

"Yes, Sir," Atem said, and began to dig through the work bar for the man's order.

Seto stepped up behind Joseph, who had begun to reassemble his garment, and it was beginning to look like something one could eventually wear. He said nothing, even when Joseph peered up with an inquiring glance. He moved on to Yugi's station.

Yugi was further than Joseph, though not by much. However, when Seto lifted the collar of the garment—the most complicated part of this order—to examine more closely, he decided it looked more factory-made than home-sewn by an inexperienced tailor. Seto had to admit, the quality was decent.

"I see you and Joseph won't be finishing these in the six hours allotted."

Yugi's cheeks grew a tint of pink. "No, Sir."

Seto doubted that they would each be finished by the end of the day, even, but he let it slide. He wasn't making anything easier for them by hovering and making them nervous—Yugi especially—and he didn't want any extra mistakes. He counted it as good experience for whoever managed to keep their job, and could continue giving him such work after the fact. Speed would come with experience.

"Do what you can," he said to Yugi, then addressed the rest of the work room. "I'm leaving for the day. I'll be back tomorrow morning. If you need anything, try to manage, but I'll have my cell phone on me."

Seto didn't say it, but he was beginning to suspect that the story going around in Mokuba's school would hit home for him soon, too. He tried to dismiss the thought, and headed to the front door.

Rebecca was just finishing up a fitting in the front, waving her client back into the dressing room with a smile. But it faded the moment she looked up and saw him. Seto nodded and gave her no further regard, but it dawned on him that she, too, must have seen the article—any one of the versions, in fact.

"Goodnight," he said, and strode to the door.

Rebecca didn't respond, and Seto knew that the article was already doing its damage.

* * *

When Seto arrived at the school, Mokuba was waiting in the office, fidgeting with a pen.

Mokuba launched out of his seat, dropping the pen on the floor.

"What took you so long?"

"Have you ever had to drive downtown when school's about to let out?"

"No…" Mokuba said with an eye roll.

"Well, then maybe you can cut me a little slack. I came, didn't I? After twenty minutes of bumper-to-bumper traffic, I strongly considered letting you take the bus home."

Mokuba groaned. "But half the kids who ride the same bus I do are in my grade! It would never stop!"

"Look, kid. I am not pulling you from school over this. You'll just have to come back tomorrow and learn to deal."

Mokuba stepped back and narrowed his eyes at Seto.

"Are you serious? You're not going to do something about this? This is _your_ problem!"

"I agree, and I never said I wouldn't do anything about it. But I'm telling you now, so that there's no confusion, that you won't be switching schools—especially so close to the end of the year. You've got, what? Two months left? You'll make it."

Mokuba bit his tongue, but Seto could tell he would hear more once they were out of earshot of the receptionist.

"Sit down," Seto told him, and turned to the woman. "I assume you've already heard about the trouble?"

The woman nodded. She wasn't the same woman Seto had spoken to before, and he inquired about the administrator.

"She'll be in tomorrow. You can talk to her then."

"I'm not coming to school tomorrow," Mokuba said from behind him.

"Yes you are," Seto responded without turning around. "Is there anyone I can speak to about the issue at hand, who can do something about it? What about the prinicpal?"

The receptionist picked up her phone and pressed a button.

"Principal Bobasa, we have a parent here to speak to you." She was silent a moment, then hung up the phone and turned to Seto. "The principal is in, and he's already spoken with Mokuba. You can speak to him now." She pointed him to his office.

"Can I come?" Mokuba asked, already standing.

"I don't see why not, as long as you let me do the talking."

"Fine."

Seto turned around to face him. "Mokuba, I mean it. This is the aftermath of _my_ problem. Unless I need some information clarified, I don't need to hear from you while I speak to the principal."

"I said _fine_."

Seto stood upright and nodded.

"Then you can come in."

Mokuba grabbed his pen and followed dutifully. Seto knocked on the door, but entered without invitation.

He remembered meeting with the principal, a short, round man, when he first established himself as Mokuba's guardian. The Kaiba family was unconventional, and Seto didn't want misunderstandings about who was 'in charge' of Mokuba to get in the way of his education. It had all gone surprisingly well, and Seto hadn't needed to meet with the man since.

"Come in, have a seat," the man said jovially, and offered Seto his hand. "I've already spoken to Mokuba about the incident he's been called down for, but I didn't think it warranted a parental visit."

"I'm not here because Mokuba misbehaved. I'm here because evidently the rest of his peers have."

The principal frowned, but his thick lips and round face hardly seemed to suit the expression.

"Mister Kaiba, this isn't about Mokuba's peers. The detetion he has been given is for him, based on his actions."

Seto looked at Mokuba, who sat beside him. "You never said you were given a detention."

"I didn't know until I got here. I'm supposed to serve it tomorrow after school."

"Did you tell him what your classmates have been saying to you today?"

Mokuba shrugged. "It didn't seem to matter. I'm obviously the one to blame. Who cares _why_ I said what I did?"

Seto turned to the principal. "This is not acceptable. Mokuba may have broken a rule by using inappropriate language, but so did the classmates who provoked him. They're more to blame than he is, but I don't see any other students serving detentions."

The principal sighed. "I was surprised to have you sent down here, Mokuba. You're not a trouble maker. I don't like having you sent here any more than you like being sent here. So let's get to the bottom of why you acted out today. Is this the beginning of a new trend for you? Mister Kaiba, has he been acting out at home?"

Mokuba glanced at Seto.

"I'll explain where this started," Seto said, "But don't accuse my brother of trending toward misbehavior if you don't understand the whole story."

"Please, elaborate."

"There are rumors—incorrect rumors, I must specify—that are circulating about me online. Some of Mokuba's classmates have stumbled upon publicly accessible lies and are now bullying him over the supposed implications. Quite ruthlessly, from what I hear."

The principal's frown deepened. He tapped the track pad on his laptop and typed something on the keyboard. After a few clicks, he turned the machine around to face the brothers.

"Is this what you're referring to?"

The principal had pulled up a list of links in a search that all led to the various articles Seto was trying to get torn down.

"It is."

"I was afraid that's what this was about. I was intending to address you personally at a later time, but since it's come up now, well…"

"Address me later? About what?"

"Mister Kaiba, our school has policies stating that relationships between teachers and parents—or in your case, guardians—are strictly—"

"I understand your policies," Seto cut in. "But for my part, nothing actually happened. As I said, those pages are full of rumors. More importantly, Miss Valentine should be the one reprimanded on this subject, as she's the one under contract with your school. Not myself, and certainly not Mokuba. I want to know what you intend to do about this situation."

"I intend to take it to the school board. Mokuba has always received rather acceptable grades, and at this point these will need to be re-evaluated and checked against his performance."

"That was _not_ what I'm asking about," Seto said, feeling heat rise in his chest. "I _just_ said you have no basis on which to punish Mokuba. Do you not realize, based on my previous complaints about Miss Valentine, that she's the one who's commissioned those articles?"

"Why would Mai Valentine risk her own job security for such an act? You can provide proof of this?"

"I've spoken directly to the blogger who began the entire farce and he confirmed the fact. Not only is your employee deliberately tarnishing my name with allegations, but she's indirectly jeopardizing my brother's education."

The principal clicked on a link and pulled up a blurry photograph.

"Mister Kaiba. Is this, or is this not, you in this photograph?"

Seto ground his teeth. He saw no point in lying. Mai could just as easily get the staff at The Spade, especially those involved in the underground club, to vouch that they had seen Seto out with her that night.

"It… is."

"Then why are you still denying your part in this catastrophe? Not only have you—and yes, one of our teachers as well—crossed a boundary, but now if I am to take you and Mokuba for your words, this has become an issue that's disrupting the general student body."

"Let me try this again," Seto said, holding back a bite to his tone. "What are you going to do about Mai Valentine? What sort of discipline is she going to receive?"

"That will be up to the school board. She may receive a few weeks' suspension, but I haven't seen that method to be highly profitable with other issues in the past. It's much more likely that this will be swept under the rug to avoid drawing further attention to it."

"I refuse to accept that."

"It isn't your choice. You, and Mokuba, will be expected to file in line like the rest of the families with students at this school. If either of you refuse, Mokuba may be suspended."

"What?" Mokuba crowed. "What did I do?"

"With this kind of situation, Mokuba, the school has no way to prove that you've earned the grades you've received."

"Mai teaches gym class," Seto interrupted. "What grades are there to earn?"

The principal shook his head. "It isn't just about Miss Valentine. When this kind of behavior is suspected, all teachers must be brought under the light."

"Seto hasn't even _met_ most of my teachers!" Mokuba cried. "Are you saying _I'm_ going to be punished because _you_ think _he_ screwed with—"

"Mokuba, stop," Seto barked. "Do not make this worse for yourself. I will handle this. You will not be suspended."

"That isn't your decision, Mister Kaiba."

"And whose decision are you claiming it will be?"

"Like I said, the school board will be contacted. I'll arrange a meeting next week. Until then, I suggest Mokuba lay low and ignore the comments other have been saying."

"Seto, I am _not_ doing this for a week."

"By then," the principal said, "it's likely to blow over for you."

"Until I'm suspended and Mai gets off free," Mokuba bit. "And what about my brother?"

Seto put a hand on Mokuba's arm, and Mokuba fell back in his chair.

"While there of course is no legal case, it may be best if you pull Mokuba from the school."

" _That's_ what I've been telling you, Seto. I'm not coming back if this isn't getting fixed."

"It will get fixed, Mokuba. I refuse to let this be the end of things." He turned to the principal. "Mokuba's biggest problem immediately are the other students. What do you plan to do in order to silence their remarks? An email to the staff? An anti-bullying campaign? I expect you to do something to remedy _your_ side of problems immediately."

The prinicpal leaned forward, his gut spilling over the edge of his desk. "I don't respond well to threats from student families, sir."

"This is not a threat. It's an expectation. If you can't fix this for one of _your_ students, then why should he remain a student any longer?"

"You would pull Mokuba from the school over a matter that you began?"

"Let me get that straight right now. I did _not_ start this. Miss Valentine's petty behavior was the very beginning. She has made it clear, months ago, that she does not care about the well-being of her students. This entire scenario is her concoction. And as for pulling Mokuba from school—Mokuba, how much does the idea bother you?"

Mokuba shrugged. "If you'd have asked me a few weeks ago—which you did, by the way, when we talked about moving—I'd have said it wouldn't be a big deal. Today? I'd rather quit this school right now than go back another day if you aren't going to do something," he finished with a glare for the principal.

The man held his hands up in defeat. "No matter the situation, I don't approve of bullying. I suppose I can send an email to the staff, as you suggested, Mister Kaiba, and get this behavior to stop."

"I expect you to be stern about it. Make no room for excuses. If you notify the other teachers, I will allow Mokuba to return tomorrow, but if he hears so much as one snide remark, I'm pulling him and he will be done here."

Mokuba glanced up at his brother. "I thought you said a few mintues ago that I had to go tomorrow."

"Circumstances have changed." He turned to the principal. "I won't let you slap a suspension on his file over something he did not do."

"Mister Kaiba, as I have said, that decision is not up to you."

"Oh, I heard you. Have you heard me? Mokuba is not taking advantage of relationships that do not exist for the benefit of the grades he is _earning_ on his own. Is that clear enough for you? Mokuba is the victim today, not the offender. I expect you to strike the detention he's been assigned from his file as well. He will not be serving it."

"Does it really matter? It's not going to stop the other kids."

"Of course it matters. You were sent down here because of your language, but given the language of the other students, you should only have to have to serve a detention if the students who nagged you also do."

A bells rang in the halls.

"And since school just let out, I doubt that's going to happen."

"I can't override Mokuba's detention."

"Then give one to each of his classmates."

"It wasn't my whole class this afternoon, just the jerkwads in my row."

"Write down their names," Seto insisted, and swiped a notepad from the principal's side of his desk.

Mokuba did so and passed the notebook back to the principal, who looked it over.

"Very well, I'll have a talk with these boys in the morning."

"Pull them now," Seto demanded.

"Some of them will miss their rides home if I do that."

"They should have thought about that when they earned this."

The principal glanced at Mokuba, then tore the top page off the notepad and retreated to the front office.

"Seto, are you really going to pull me from school?"

"I'll try not to let things escalate that far, but it may end up being your only option. I hope you can be okay with that when the time comes."

"I'd _like_ to be able to finish the year out. But only if it's bearable."

"Then we'll try to leave that as a possibility."

The principal stepped back in.

"I gave that list to the receptionist to track those boys down, and I'll also have a talk with your seventh period teacher and see what her side of the story is."

"Thanks," Mokuba said half-heartedly.

"I don't suppose we have anything else to discuss for the moment, Mister Kaiba, unless you had anything else you want to add."

Seto scribbled his email address onto the principal's notepad.

"Here. I want you to send me a copy of the email you address to the teachers."

"I will send it tonight."

Seto stood, and Mokuba followed.

"I want to emphasize that there is no reason Miss Valentine should be entitled to keep her job after everything she has put my brother through this quarter, and everything she continues to do. Her priority is not in her students, and the sooner you see that, the sooner you can make a better decision for the good of your students. I implore you to speak to your administrator and get her report of my full complaint."

"I will do that. Good day, Mister Kaiba. We'll see you tomorrow, Mokuba."

* * *

Mokuba climbed in the passenger seat of Noa's car.

"So that was surprising," he said.

"No joke," Seto agreed.

"So I guess you changed your mind on the subject of making me go back to school tomorrow, no matter what?"

"I didn't expect the principal to be so confrontational. How can he, in good conscience, revoke grades you've already earned because there _could_ have been bribery involved? No, I refuse to let someone like that be your main line of defense when it comes to your eduation."

"Maybe she's sleeping with him, too."

"Don't say 'too' like I'm sleeping with her in the first place."

"I'm just saying, maybe he's jealous of you, and trying to punish us for it."

"I should have left the moment she began to brag about all the men she's brought home who couldn't say no to her."

"Ick. Maybe she _is_ sleeping with the principal. Why else would he defend her so much?"

"I wouldn't jump to conclusions."

"I wouldn't rule it out," Mokuba countered.

"By the way, you're not serving your detention tomorrow."

"Can you do that? I mean, if they try to make me stay after and I don't, won't I just get in more trouble?"

"I'll send an email, and maybe I'll call your seventh period teacher about it directly. I'd send you with a signed note, but these days they'd probably claim you forged it, wouldn't they?"

"Likely. I really don't want to dig myself in deeper."

"Sure. Hey, before you say anything else," Seto said, "I'm sorry for all this."

Mokuba shrugged. "I wasn't going to say anything about that. I know most of this isn't your fault." He took a deep breath. " _I'm_ sorry for the way I talked to you on the phone earlier."

"I appreciate that. But I understand that you're frustrated."

"I'm just looking forward to the tournament now more than ever. I really want to win against Miss Valentine. I'd love to feel like we have the upper hand for once."

"And we will," Seto promised.


	66. Chapter 66

"Mister Kaiba?" came Yugi's timid voice from the workroom doorway behind him.

"What is it?" Seto asked, trying not to lose his place in his text book before he was done with the thought.

"I've finished the garment."

Seto glanced at his watch. It was half past ten.

"Nine and a half hours?" Seto asked, only paying half attention while he skimmed the rest of his paragraph. He was near the end of a chapter on marketing, and while he found most of the concepts elementary, every now and then he found a gem of information.

"I know you specified six. I did the best I could, and I'm sorry it took so long. But I've never—"

Seto stopped listening while he finished reading, then closed his book to give Yugi more attention.

"I know I gave you a big project. I didn't expect you to get it done in six hours. I was hoping you'd both be done yesterday, but that's part of the reason for this test. Go ahead and hang your garment on the finished rack and I'll check it over later. Work on the next project in line."

"Oh. Okay."

"What is it?"

"Nothing… Well. I was just hoping, I guess, that you'd look at it now."

"I'll wait until Wheeler is done. Fair is fair. It helps that you're done earlier, but only if your work is stronger. I'm not giving you an immediate answer, if that's what you're hoping for."

Yugi paused a moment, then nodded. He returned to the workroom.

Seto spent what felt like the remainder of the morning changing ad signs and filing receipts, with the occasional customer popping in for a pickup, before Joseph finally came forward with his order near noon.

"All done, boss."

Seto nodded, and followed Joseph into the back. He pulled the two garments, each on their own hanger in their own garment bag. He pulled them off the rack and moved them to the front, away from the eyes of the rest of the shop.

The morning was quiet and slow. He unveiled Joseph's garment first, and compared it to the sketch Cicero had drawn from the customer's specifications. The garment, of course, looked just like the sketch, but that was far more the doing of Daimon, who had drawn up the patterns.

The stitching, on the other hand, was clearly that of an amateur. Seto gently folded the garment at the collar and saw immediately that the shoulder lengths did not match, the right was a quarter inch longer than the left. He doubted the particular customer would be so picky, but that was not the point. It would have to be amended.

The collar stood up properly and seemed to be sewn on correctly. The overlap when the coat's top button was fastened lined up nicely. But some of the decorative trim was sewn crooked in a few places, and in two spots exactly the inside of the trim hadn't caught properly and Seto could fit his fingertip inside the gap. He stuck a few yellow-headed pins into the trim where it needed to be remedied to mark the spot.

While the collar lined up well, when the entire coat was closed the hem on the underside was longer than the outer layer by a half inch. If it had been a mistake in the reverse Seto might have been inclined to let it slide, but with the underside poking out it drew the eye and he couldn't ignore it.

He pulled the garment bag over the coat and moved on to Yugi's project. He did the same as with the first, folding it gently at the collar. While Yugi had started out slow, his pace had given him an advantage. The shoulders lined up correctly, and the collar was sewn on well.

When he checked each of the same points he had on the first, Yugi's attempt succeeded, at least somewhat. Yugi had also had a bit of trouble keeping his trim perfectly straight, but only an eye trained for quality would pick out the imperfections. There was nothing Seto could find in the trim to have it sent back to Yugi to fix.

However, Yugi's attempt at steaming the garment was fairly atrocious. Wrinkles, folds and tucks were creased into the fabric all over the garment. Seto could see that he had pressed the seams well, but even Seto knew that part of pressing was to make it look uniform. He shouldn't be able to see that the seams, and the seams alone, were pressed flat and smooth.

Seto returned to the back room, but let the garments hang in the front. Both Yugi and Joseph looked up, but Seto called Atem out front instead. He put down his work and followed.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to let you know that I've granted time off for the tournament."

Atem raised his eyebrows. "I was certainly hoping so. Yugi and I are already registered. The fees are non-refundable."

"I expected it to work out this way. But I would rather have left the decision open than end up having to deny leave I'd have already granted."

"I understand. Was there anything else?"

"Yes. I want you to keep this private for now."

"What do you mean?"

"I expect you not to speak to Yugi about the leave time just yet."

"Why? You aren't granting it for him as well? We're going together, or not at all."

"I understand that. I am granting it, I just don't want you two to spend the day talking about it."

"I see," he said, though his tone indicated he didn't fully understand. "Fine, then."

"I'll talk to him at the end of the day."

Neither Yugi's or Joseph's garment was perfect, but the choice was clear. Seto would have Yugi fix Joseph's mistakes, and someone else teach Yugi how to press properly. But that would do for the next day. He would release Joseph after the work day was done. He would let them work for the time being.

"That's all for now. You can get back to your work."

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate the time off."

Seto nodded. "But I hope it's not all about winning for you, because I don't plan to let you."

Atem smirked, and walked off.

* * *

"May I have a word with you outside, Mister Kaiba?" Rebecca asked.

"Whatever you need," he droned, clearing the calculator he used to keep tabs of the drawer.

She had never addressed him as such, but Seto didn't dwell on the thought as he stood and led the way outside. He pulled out a chair for them each, but Rebecca's suddenly disdainful expression gave him pause.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked, sitting down.

Rebecca slid an envelope across the table as she slid into her chair.

"Inside you'll find my resignation, which begins immediately. I apologize for being unable to provide the standard notice of two weeks."

Seto eyed the envelope but didn't take it.

"You're resigning? May I ask why?"

"All the information is in my letter of notice."

"Very professional," he commended.

Seto pulled the envelope off the table and tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of printed paper, which he skimmed. Then he frowned, finding the information rather lacking.

"You've found other work, I see. What happened to keeping this as a summer job, if you don't mind me asking?"

Rebecca's tone was somber. "I found something more suited to my tastes, is all."

Seto folded the note and returned it to the envelope. He rested his hands on the table and met Rebecca's eyes.

"I can understand if you've made a decision to progress in your career, but a part of me suspects that this has more to do with another issue than your direct pursuits. Am I correct?"

Rebecca stared at Seto evenly, but the twitch of her jaw made it appear as though she were biting her tongue.

Seto leaned in. "Listen. You've shown some promise here. I would rather not see you driven away by something that can be remedied. Is this a salary issue? We might be able to negotiate."

Rebecca stood suddenly.

"I'm sorry Mister Kaiba, but I am unwilling to negotiate with you."

Seto furrowed his brows. Where was this coming from? He remembered the anger he'd seen in her expression the day before, but it still didn't make sense. A personal problem?

"Can you elaborate? What exactly is your issue?"

"I don't want to burn the bridge to possible future references, and as such, I would rather not say."

"What can I do to change your mind?"

"It isn't that simple. I have another opportunity and I've already accepted it."

"But that's what I don't understand. When you signed on for this job, you were very convincing about your drive to work here. You researched my business."

"I've found something that lines up more with my pursuits. I'll be very happy to work there."

"I can't persuade you?"

"As I said, I've already accepted another position. They're very eager for me to start."

"In the middle of the week, no less," Seto commented. Rebecca didn't respond. "I'm sorry to see you go."

"Thank you. Can I receive my last check by mail, or will I need to pick it up in person?"

"I'll mail it, if you prefer."

"I would."

Rebecca held out a hand, but the move appeared reluctant to Seto, who stood as well.

"You don't have to," Seto said.

She nodded and dropped her hand.

"Do you need anything from me? Do I need to sign any papers?"

"No. You can go home. Thank you for the time you've invested here."

"Thank you for the experience."

"I suppose you should be thanking those who've actually taught you. I hope you've given them your farewells."

"I will. I still have to get my things."

Seto watched her return to the shop and let the door close before running a hand through his hair.

"Damn," he muttered. "Now what?"

He'd had every intention of letting Joseph go. But he wasn't useless, just of lower performance than the others. He was a good mule for hems and easy alterations, which he was getting faster at. It wouldn't be the _worst_ thing to keep him on board, but he certainly preferred keeping Rebecca over him, or Yugi. She was smart, confident, good with customers and good with a machine.

She had to know he was willing to pay her more—he'd said as much. But it didn't seem to be about the money. Something was off about her mood, ever since the day before.

And that was the day Mokuba had called him, the day of the outbreak online from Mai's trash articles. Seto reasoned that Rebecca had seen one. With her views on women's fashion, Seto had no doubt that, if she had seen those lies and believed them, that she was offended by Seto's supposed actions.

There was little he could do about that, especially as she seemed unwilling to discuss it, but it was highly unfortunate.

Seto returned to the shop, wondering if he should say something to her. But if she had gone out of her way to find a new job so quickly—or to lie about getting one—she wasn't likely to change her new opinion of him any time soon. He decided he had no choice but to let her decision lie.

Rebecca stepped past him with a curt nod and walked out, her bag in hand, on her last day. Seto let her go. When he returned to the back, most others were packed up and ready to go. Seto pulled Yugi and Joseph to the front quickly. They followed eagerly.

"I'll be brief," Seto said. "I made my decision already, but circumstances have changed. I've decided to keep both of you on."

Yugi and Joseph shared a look of disbelief.

"You mean, we went through all of that just for you to say we're both still hired?" Joseph asked.

"I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't necessary at the time. But like I said, circumstances have changed."

"Are you firing Becca instead?" Joseph asked.

"I did not fire her. She resigned. Apparently she's accepted a different position."

"That's what she said," Yugi added. "I'm glad for her, but it's too bad."

Seto refrained from agreeing, implying that he'd rather it were one of them to quit than her. It was true, but not very professional to admit.

"So, that's it, we both stay?"

"That seems to be the situation."

"Don't we get to know who won?"

Seto smirked in Joseph's direction. "I wasn't planning on giving that information. However, since you asked, I should mention that each of the garments need a little extra attention."

Seto reached for the garment bags and handed each to the man who had done the work.

"Joseph, you'll need to rework the trim in the places where I've pinned it. You also need to shorten the shoulder on one side to match the other, and shorten the underside of the front hem to match the other layer. Those areas are also marked with pins. You can do that in the morning."

"Okay," he said, taking the bag, but he stood as if he were waiting for more.

"And Yugi," Seto said, "ask someone with a bit more experience how you can improve your pressing techniques." He handed Yugi his garment.

"That's it?" Yugi asked.

"Is that clear enough for you?" Seto asked.

Joseph nodded. "Yeah, I figured that's where I stood. I knew when you pit us together that Yug' would win."

"Then why did you have so much guilt over the idea of making someone else lose their job?"

"Well, 'cause, I don't know, I coulda been surprised. Er, could have."

"It's not like that, though, Joey," Yugi said. "You're doing really well. You've learned a lot in a short amount of time. I just… well, I started sooner. That's not your fault."

"It wouldn't have helped except for Becca walkin' out. Still, too bad about that."

"Listen, Wheeler. I typically don't believe in puffing people up with unnecessary compliments. Fear of failure is a strong motivator for most people. However, in your case I'll let you know that I wouldn't have needed to run this competition if I hadn't needed an open machine. If not for that, I wasn't planning on letting anybody go."

"I guess that means something, 'specially comin' from you."

"Forget about this for now. You both dove head-first into something new, and came out with something I'll be able to sell. It's progress. Go punch out and we'll start again tomorrow."

Both men nodded and complied.


End file.
